Petals
by Fellowshipper
Summary: AU. Some loves are worth making sacrifices for. Jay/Adam slash
1. Default Chapter

Title: Petals (don't laugh too hard. It's a working title until a better one comes to mind.)  
  
Disclaimer: If I owned them, there would be an E&C mud wrestling contest at least once a week. Whee!  
  
Notes: This is a long and dark one, folks. Sorry. Also, there be slash and real-person fic ahead, so move along if that bugs you.   
  
******  
  
There were times when Jason Reso wanted only to find a way to strangle himself with the microphone.   
  
"Bobby in housewares, we need a pricecheck at register eleven on a box of Sylvania light bulbs."   
  
Jay sighed quietly, forced a smile, and choked down the urge to pull a plastic bag over his head and inhale deeply. Of course it would be his luck that a customer would pick the one box of light bulbs on the shelf that wouldn't scan and then go to the register being worked by the checkout person ten minutes away from going home. Much as he wanted to tell the customer he hated her and wished a deadly plague on her grandchildren, he kept the tight smile. The anal retentive assistant manager, a tiny redhead named Kristin, took great pleasure in making her underlings suffer. She was also a strict advocate of the "service with a smile" policy.   
  
"Thanks," Jay mumbled half-heartedly when Bobby in housewares showed up with a new box of lightbulbs. Bobby shrugged and started to walk off, pretending to throw the plastic conveyor belt seperator at a nonobservant Kristin. It was enough to make Jay chuckle lightly in appreciation. Thanking whatever god or demon was keeping at eye on him that the new box scanned without a problem, he collected the money and sent the woman on her way, idly checking his watch at the same time. Seven and a half minutes away. He fully expected Kristin to march up to him, chest puffed out to show off her latest push-up bra, red-orange ponytail bobbing high atop her head, and gleefully announce he had to stay to pull another shift. She didn't, though, and he was seriously beginning to wonder if she'd been replaced by an alien pod.   
  
"Welcome to Super Stop-n-Shop," he greeted without looking up at the next customer, just immediately running the items over the scanner. "Did you find everything okay?"   
  
"Well, actually, I was looking --"   
  
"That's great. We like to keep our customers happy while providing a wide variety . . ." He trailed off, blinked, and looked up with his brow creased to see a puzzled but amused face staring back at him. "Shit."   
  
"Long day?" The customer asked with a wry grin. Jay shook his head and went back to scanning.   
  
"You have no idea."   
  
"Yeah, you're probably right," the customer agreed without argument. "Anyway, I was looking for the new issue of Metal Maniacs and I couldn't find it."   
  
Jay looked up through blond lashes, revealing a displeased expression. "We don't sell that. We're a 'family store,'" he explained with a pointed glare to Kristin. "The people-in-charge decided that magazine was promoting 'the degredation of Canadian youth' or some other crap."   
  
The customer raised his eyebrows and dug his wallet from his jeans. "You, uh, don't sound like you enjoy working here."   
  
"I don't, but it pays the bills," Jay shrugged, accepting the money handed to him, overjoyed to see it was exact change. "See ya," he said while handing the receipt and plastic bag of items to the customer. The customer, in return, nodded and walked away.   
  
Faith restored in humanity, at least for the time being, Jay turned an almost convincing grin to the next person in line.   
  
The remaining five minutes of his shift ended uneventfully, and as usual he gave Kristin his best Nazi salute behind her back on the way to the staff room to get his jacket. Sometimes he honestly thought she knew everything he did around her and only used that to her advantage. He secretly suspected she was going to whip out a video tape one day and show every rude gesture and insulting face he made at her.   
  
Stepping outside the door, Jay inhaled sharply and was forced to pull his jacket tighter around him. The cold front the weather forecasters had predicted for next week had apparently not heard the news and blew in early. The wind was swift and with an icy chill, against which his light spring jacket was not much help. Already cold fingers fumbled clumsily with the jacket zipper, stopping immediately when he noticed the customer he'd been talking to earlier seated on a nearby bench. Somehow, even despite the forceful wind, he was managing to keep the Cliff Notes: French I book he'd bought open and at the same page, a skill that intrigued Jay to no ends.   
  
Well. Might as well have someone to talk to while I freeze to death.   
  
"Hey," he announced his presence with only that and a dull thudding sound when he sat down heavily on the bench. If the customer was startled at all, he hid it well by simply turning the page and offering a Lifesaver from the roll he'd just bought. Jay took it gratefully and popped it into his mouth. "What're you still doin' here?"   
  
"Waiting on my ride."   
  
Jay nodded to himself and leaned back in his seat, taking the opportunity to actually look at this other person now that he didn't have to worry about Kristin sprouting another head. Shoulder length, slightly wavy blond hair fell over the man's -- boy's, Jay corrected himself -- shoulder. A pronounced jawbone was just barely visible through the hair, and Jay found himself drawn to the unusual features. Lips poked out into a natural pout models paid thousands of dollars to achieve, and strikingly high cheekbones led to a pair of hazel green eyes that seemed to be scanning the book in his lap but not really reading it.   
  
All in all, Jay noted with a tinge of red rising in his cheeks, he'd definitely go after the guy if that guy was actually a girl.   
  
"Adam."   
  
Jay blinked. "Huh?"   
  
The customer looked up to show his eyes were much greener than Jay had originally guessed, revealing almost eerie resemblance to a cat's. "My name's Adam. I figured I might as well introduce myself."   
  
"Oh." Jay breathed a quiet sigh of relief that he hadn't been caught staring. Or maybe he had, he realized, once he saw the way the other boy's mouth was trying not to turn up into a smirk. "Uh...yeah. I'm Jason, but --"  
  
"Jay. I like that better." Noticing the light frown, Adam shrugged. "I saw it on your nametag."   
  
Unnerved a bit, Jay tore his eyes from Adam and went back to staring out into the almost empty parking lot. "What school do you go to?"   
  
"Who said I go to school?"   
  
It was Jay's turn to shrug this time. "You work in a place like this long enough, you figure out that you can learn a lot about a person by what they buy. You bought a Cliff Notes book -- French, even, which means you're either traveling or hoping to impress some girl --, a roll of Lifesavers instead of a candy bar, which means you either don't like chocolate or you're trying to diet or something like that, and a TV Guide, which means the French book," Jay continued with a small grin, "isn't impressing the girl as much as you hoped and you're spending your weekend at home."   
  
Adam raised his eyebrows but couldn't quite keep from smiling in response. "The book's because my father's opening a business in Paris and wants me to go with him when it opens next year, I don't care a lot for chocolate, and I spend all my weekends at home."   
  
"Hmm. Well, I was a little off. That happens sometimes," Jay answered nonchalantly. "I'm usually pretty right, though. It's a great way to hit on girls, too. I mean, who else but a single college kid would come through buying two boxes of cat food and a box of macaroni and cheese?"   
  
"Yeah," Adam replied absently, brow narrowing just before he slammed the book shut and disgustedly shoved it back into the bag. "I can't make any sense out of this stupid language."   
  
"Could be worse," Jay reasoned. "He could be traveling to China or something."   
  
A mocking shudder was the only response Adam gave.   
  
"So you never did say what school you went to."   
  
Adam's shoulders slumped just enough to be barely noticeable. "Oakley."   
  
Try as he might to hide it, Jay was unable to prevent his eyebrows from lifting. Oakley, short for The Oakley Institution for Accelerated Youth, was the foremost private school in Ontario and one of the most exclusive the entire country of Canada had to offer. It was for that reason that it was primarily attended by the children of Toronto's wealthiest and most successful businessmen. Despite its name, it was publicly recognized as more of a school for those businessmen to showcase their extravagance rather than to celebrate any amount of intelligence its students may have had.   
  
"Well. You, uh, must be pretty well off," Jay commented dryly, not really having much anything else to say. Adam shrugged indifferently, eyes still focused on the sidewalk beneath his feet.   
  
"I guess."   
  
"Whoa, hold on." Jay sat up suddenly, startling Adam into looking up. "You go to freakin' Oakley and you're shopping at the Canadian equivalent to Wal-Mart? What's wrong with you?"   
  
Adam gave a shy little grin that he didn't particularly feel at all. "I'm not my father's son voluntarily. I don't flaunt my money just to taunt the less-fortunate."   
  
Jay snorted. "Shyeah, whatever. I sure as hell would if I was loaded like that!"   
  
Though he rolled his eyes, Adam still had to laugh. He wasn't given a chance to respond, however, as a black Lexus pulled to the curb, not a scratch to be seen on its surface and the windows tinted to the point it was nearly impossible to see inside. The driver's side door opened and a short man, middle-aged, Jay guessed, from his receding hairline, stepped out and motioned for Adam.   
  
"This is insane. Is his name Alfred?" Jay asked, a twinge of bitterness making his words much sharper than he'd intended. Adam flinched accordingly as he rose to his feet and picked his bag up.   
  
"Huh uh. Mike, actually."   
  
Jay shook his head in amusement. "Insane."   
  
"We could give you a ride back home, if you want."   
  
"Nah, that's okay. I'll walk. Thanks anyway."   
  
"No problem."   
  
Jay watched with hardly concealed fascination and even a bit of jealousy while the driver walked around and opened the back passenger door, an act that evidently embarrassed Adam. A few seconds later the car drove out of sight, leaving Jay alone on the bench. That was until, of course, he heard a hauntingly familiar voice off to his right behind him.   
  
"Is loitering your new hobby?"   
  
Jay cringed, not having to turn around to know it was the assistant manager from hell harrassing him. "I've gotta do something for extra cash, since I don't have a stick up my ass and can't get a management position."   
  
Kristin rolled her eyes and put her hands on her hips -- tiny hips, Jay noted. She'd be so easy to snap in half . . . he was fairly certain a disgruntled stockboy would pretty soon. "Well, if you're just gonna stay here anyway, why don't you come back in and work another shift?"   
  
"Why?"   
  
"Why not? You don't have an excuse not to."   
  
Jay suddenly dropped to his knees, patting the ground and crawling around the bench. "I can't see! I lost my contact!" An elderly couple about to enter the store stopped and came closer to him. "Oh, thanks. Could you help me? I've got bad eyes and I just lost a contact. I was about to go to my house where I have to take care of my five brothers and sisters all by myself, since my father died last year trying to save a group of nuns from a burning convent and my mother ran off with a Brazilian model named Carlos. My manager, though, wants me to stay and work rather than go home to Katie, Carla, Jacob, Lisa, and little Andy with the peg-leg, and I can't work without my contact."   
  
Kristin's mouth dropped open in shock, and she shook her head at the couple staring at her like she was Satan himself. "He's an only child!"   
  
"Poor thing," Jay shook his head sadly. "She's a pathological liar. She hasn't been right in the head since that accident with the koala bear in Australia a few years ago."   
  
The couple wisely backed up into the store, which isn't to say they didn't give Kristin the meanest glare they could manage. She turned her enraged eyes to Jay, still on the ground and with a perfectly straight face.   
  
"You had damn well better be putting in your two weeks notice tomorrow," she almost hissed, turning on her heel and stalking back through the sliding doors. Jay waved innocently.   
  
"I love you too, snookums! But wait, do you still want this month's child support check?"   
  
Kristin flipped him off and disappeared from view. Jay laughed as he rose and brushed his jeans off, smile broadening when he saw Bobby give a thumbs up from where he stood by a Pepsi machine inside.   
  
So he'd made a new friend and pissed his boss off again. Yeah, it looked like his work was done for the night. With a slight bounce in his step, he turned and began walking towards his apartment.   
  
Adam, meanwhile, was bored senseless and staring blankly out the window, watching without interest the street lights passing overhead. The ride would have been completely silent if it hadn't been for the classic rock station playing from the speakers behind him and Mike humming along, if a bit offkey.   
  
"I've asked you not to do that in public," Adam noted once the songs inevitably gave way to commercials. The driver glanced into the rearview mirror to see Adam watching him intently.   
  
"What, hum? I'm not that bad."   
  
"No, open the door for me. It's embarrassing."   
  
"Sorry. I forget sometimes. I just do it so often for your father --"   
  
"I'm not my father," Adam shot back with a venom that made Mike immediately turn his eyes back to the road. "And if you ever compare me to him again . . ." It was an empty-ended threat, but one said with such hateful determination Mike knew better than to challenge it. He cleared his throat instead and decided to change the subject.   
  
"So. Who was that boy you were talking to?"   
  
Adam's cheeks flushed indignantly, knowing already where the conversation was headed. "Someone I met," he answered defensively, folding his arms over his chest as if daring Mike to say something else.   
  
"Adam, you know your father doesn't approve --"   
  
"Yeah, I do, and I don't really fucking care what my father does and doesn't approve of," Adam interrupted, eyes practically blazing with anger. "Believe me. Every goddamned inch of my back knows he doesn't approve of anything I do."   
  
Mike, having been the family's head butler and chauffeur since long before Adam's birth and also in charge of babysitting him for most of his life, knew his limits with the boy. He also knew he'd overstepped those boundaries about a mile back. Adam was generally a sweet-natured, easy going seventeen-year-old, but any mention of his lifestyle or his father, especially in conjunction, and he gained the same angry intimidation that had put his father amongst Ontario's wealthiest. Mike, of course, said nothing of that.   
  
"I didn't mean to upset you," Mike apologized quietly, not bothering to look in the mirror. He didn't need to; he knew Adam was trying to stare a smoking hole through his head. "I was just . . . I'm trying to look out for you, Adam."   
  
"If you really wanna look out for me, don't baby me. I can handle myself just fine."   
  
Mike kept his mouth shut and pulled silently through the house's gates, down the long driveway, and into the garage. Adam was out of the car and headed for the door leading into the kitchen before the key was even out of the ignition. He very nearly ran over the other housekeeper, a petite woman with graying hair, olive skin, and eyes a deep mahogany color that appeared black in some lights. This was one of them.   
  
"Sorry," he mumbled his insincere apology, making a beeline for the stairs and forcing the woman to hurry to keep up with his long-legged stride.   
  
"Adam?" She sat the can of wood polish she'd been carrying down on the counter and chased after her current ward, cursing him inwardly for being so much taller and still taking the steps two at a time. "Adam, what's wrong? Are you okay?"   
  
"Fine."   
  
The door slammed shut without another word, and it was only a few seconds before a Type O Negative CD was blaring loudly from his stereo. Sophie gave an exasperated sigh and turned to see Mike coming through the door, refusing to look up from the floor.   
  
"What'd you say this time?"   
  
Given no response, she huffed and went back to polishing the cherry wood cabinets. 


	2. Two

"You annoying little furball, get off me or I'm gonna throw you out the window and see if you can really land on your feet."   
  
"Meow."   
  
"Eeeecch, don't lick me! You're not a dog!"   
  
"Meeeeow!"   
  
"No! I just fed you a couple hours ago!"   
  
"MEOW!"   
  
"OW! You bit me! What are you, Cujo-Kitty?"   
  
Jay finally gave in and opened his eyes, not at all surprised to see his beloved but irritating calico kitten, Ash, sitting on his chest and staring expectantly at him, its yellow-green eyes wide and impatient. "You know, if you weren't so freaking adorable, I'd probably throw you against the wall right now."   
  
"Meow."   
  
"You have a one-track mind, you know that?" Jay asked miserably, rolling over and making the kitten roll off onto the mattress with an insulted mew, swearing loudly when he saw the alarm clock beside his bed, which only worked on days it felt like working, had chosen to take this day off. 1:48 p.m. stood out in bold, defiant red, sending him scrambling to check the answering machine.   
  
"You have three messages," came the stilted mechanical voice. Trying to sort through a pile of clothes on a chair he hoped were clean, he hit the machine with the free hand. "First message: nine-o-three-am: 'Hi, Jay, it's Mom. I just wanted to check on you. Give me a call when you get this, okay? Love ya. Bye.'"   
  
Jay erased the message. He loved his mother dearly, but he wondered if she was on a quest to drive him insane by calling him every hour on the hour. Finding a suitable shirt, he sniffed it, shrugged, and tossed it over on the bed, almost burying Ash in doing so. The kitten meowed again and dove off the bed with the fearlessness only kittens and small children can accomplish, jogging over to Jay's side and rubbing at his ankles.   
  
"Go 'way," he mumbled, now on the hunt for a decent pair of jeans.   
  
"Second message: ten-twenty-four-am: 'Jay, pick up. I know you're there. You haven't gotten laid in weeks and I don't think it magically changed overnight.' Pause. 'Jason, c'mon, man. I'm serious.' Another pause, then a frustrated sigh. 'Fine. Look, it's almost ten-thirty and we've got practice at eleven, a meeting at eleven-thirty, and a show at noon. Get your lazy ass out of bed and down here already, wouldja?'"   
  
Not taking kindly to being ignored, the kitten nipped at Jay's ankle, meowing in its shrill voice when he finally looked down.   
  
"What?"   
  
"Meow!"   
  
"Alright, alright, you win, but don't think the intimidation thing's gonna work every time," Jay grumbled, tossing a pair of black jeans on top of the shirt and then walking into the closet that his landlord claimed was a kitchen. After giving Ash more food and fresh water, he went back to the machine and erased the second message. Too late for that anyway.   
  
"Third message: eleven-forty-one-am: 'You lucky son of a bitch. The show got cancelled. Bill almost blew a gasket that you weren't there, though, so I thought I'd give you a heads up that you're gonna get severely chewed out next time he sees you. And hey, if you're still alive and it's not too much to ask, gimme a call later, huh? Bye.'"   
  
Jay erased the message and then stared at his clothes. Oh, the decisions in life. With that day's wrestling show cancelled and his work schedule being he didn't have to go in until four, that left a little time that could be spent catching up on valuable sleep. Or maybe, he realized as he looked around, he could work on cleaning his apartment up to actually *look* like an apartment rather than one oversized clothes hamper.   
  
With a yawn, he trudged barefoot back to bed and threw his clothes off into the floor, falling onto the mattress to a chorus of protesting springs. Ash joined him as soon as he noticed his favorite pillow was settling down again, purring contentedly when Jay let him lie down against the crook of his elbow and covered him with the sheet. Life wasn't too bad, at least from his point of view. He had a nice human under his paw who tried to pretend like he didn't like him, room to run, lots of nice posters to shred whenever he got bored . . . he didn't understand why Jay spent most of his time at home asleep or looking as sad as Ash presumed a human could look.   
  
But really, what was important was that Jay didn't roll over and squish him in his sleep.   
  
******  
  
Despite the overwhelmingly rich student body at Oakley, there were very few who could claim they stood to inherit a fortune before they were old enough to drive.   
  
Adam Copeland was the only one in that elite group who could care less.   
  
As cliche as it sounded, he honestly didn't care about the money or how popular he was in school or how many girls fawned over him. The personalized, carefully detailed Jaguar in the parking lot with his initials on the license plate meant nothing substantial to him. As far as he was concerned, the unlimited gold card in his wallet was good only for paying for library books he'd thoughtlessly kept past their due dates. The fact he knew he would some day be forced into taking over his father's position of power and wealth did little to discourage him from trying to make his own path. Of course, he knew as long as the connection between he and his father was kept all attempts at a normal life would be in vain, but even that couldn't stop him from trying to prove to anyone who paid enough attention that he was more than a walking dollar sign.   
  
That, however, was hard to do when no one saw past his last name and the fortune attached to it.   
  
The short story contest wins, the passionate performances in school plays, none of it meant anything in the end. His heart was in his hobbies, odd they may have seemed to his cultured schoolmates, and no amount of pressure on anyone's part could keep him from following them. Not that he actually associated with any of his schoolmates outside of class, naturally. He could only take listening to them brag about their family's personal jet or vacation home in some exotic locale so long. It never failed to make him feel out of place with his extensive comic book collection and the electric guitar tucked away in his closet. After all, Superman may have been able to leap tall buildings in a single bound, but he couldn't hold his ground against a spoiled teenager's rambling about his trust fund.   
  
So Adam kept his thoughts and beliefs inside, choosing to let everyone else think he was just as shallow as they were. Life was easier that way, fewer rumors came back around to his father, and that was always a good thing.   
  
A rebel spirit could never be squashed, though. That much was evident by how he spent most of the nicer afternoons skipping classes and sitting outside on one of the picnic tables. Being a private school and not operating by standard procedure, the staff found it none of their concern if a student cut classes as long as the tuition was paid. While he tried his best in the classes he did choose to attend, Adam took full advantage of that attitude, if for no other reason than to screw his father over a little more each day.   
  
This happened to be one of those days, as he'd been sitting Indian-style on the top of a table for the past couple hours, a notebook open in his lap. He was humming to himself, using the end of his pen to drum a steady beat on the notebook, trying to find just the right bass line to go along with it all.   
  
"When I gave that assignment earlier, Adam, I was thinking more along the lines of Mozart, not Metallica."   
  
Adam looked up, startled to see his Music Theory teacher standing over him, casting a shadow over his paper. To his credit, Mr. Deaton -- though he preferred to be called Kyle by his students -- was one of the few teachers in the school Adam could tolerate, if only because he didn't even want to teach there at all. With the public school system not in need of someone else to clutter the music program with, he was forced to move to private teaching, something that disappointed him and came out in every class when he'd insult the intelligence of those there based solely on their family's income. All, of course, except Adam, because as much as he liked ragging on him, Kyle was still fond of him.   
  
"I'm bringing Mozart to a whole new generation," Adam explained, looking back to his paper. Kyle snorted and sat down uninvited on the table.   
  
"Whatever. Mozart was good, but I don't think he was too familiar with Les Paul." He fell silent, pockets rustling until he pulled a pack of cigarettes from inside his jacket. "You smoke?"   
  
"No." Adam looked up, eyes gaining a somewhat mischievous light. "Isn't it illegal to offer cigarettes to a minor?"   
  
Kyle nodded, putting it to his lips and lighting it in one quick movement. "Yeah. It's also illegal to smoke on school grounds, but what're they gonna do? Fire me? I don't wanna work here anyway."   
  
Adam chuckled quietly. "Good point."   
  
"Like I ever make a bad one?"   
  
"Mozart wasn't that good."   
  
"Better than James Hetfield."   
  
Such was the problem in arguing with an embittered twenty-something music teacher -- you would lose every single time. Rather than continue, Adam went back to drumming a beat on his notebook. "It's not for your class, actually. It's just something I've been working on for a while." A thin line formed in his brow. "It just isn't cooperating."   
  
Kyle looked over Adam's shoulder and then went back to plucking stray hairs off his jeans. "B flat."   
  
"What about it?"  
  
"You need a B flat. Last measure. You've got a B natural. It's throwing the chord off. Do you actually pay attention in my class or are you too busy checking out my ass?"   
  
Adam flushed a dark crimson. Kyle was, he knew, the only teacher that knew of his tendency to go from liking a girl to a guy at a moment's notice. Despite Kyle's attempts to reassure him that he really didn't care, it still made Adam uneasy whenever it was brought up, even in jest.   
  
But, fortunately, he was in a relatively good mood that day.   
  
"Your ass is about as appealing to me as Roseanne's."   
  
Kyle frowned. "Fuck you." He laughed, pointing to the notebook. "Mind if I take a look?"   
  
Adam shrugged, silently handing the book over for inspection. Kyle read over it, humming along as he went. "Pretty good, kid. The lyrics are a little scary, but overall it looks good."   
  
"Scary how?"   
  
Kyle raised an eyebrow and looked down. 'Blood and tears from unhealed wounds/Drown my voice, my soul away/Screams for help choked by obedience/Pray the Lord my soul to take/'" He stopped, looking up to see Adam staring blankly at him. "Should I call a psychiatrist now or would you rather I wait until you've finished it?"   
  
"I was in a bad mood."   
  
"You're *always* in a bad mood."   
  
"Not always."   
  
Kyle again raised an eyebrow, this time in challenge. "Really. Name a time."   
  
"Last night...for the most part." Adam gave a delirious little grin. "I met someone."   
  
Kyle groaned and flicked the ashes from his cigarette. "Well, just make sure he's had his shots."   
  
"What makes you think it's a guy?"   
  
Kyle glanced over at his student, pushing his messy black hair out of his eyes only to have it fall back once more. "I haven't heard about a murder today, and I'm pretty sure half the girls in this school would lynch any other girl they saw talking to you." He paused when the bell rang, hurriedly crushing the cigarette beneath his foot and looking to his watch. "Hey! That's the last bell! Now I get to go home and grade papers from a bunch of spoiled brats who couldn't tell a quarter note from a hole in their head. Imagine my enthusiasm."   
  
Adam laughed, waving goodbye to his teacher and debating whether he really wanted to go home or not. His father's flight wasn't scheduled to return until tomorrow morning, giving him no good reason to avoid his house for now. All the same, he chose to remain in his spot and enjoy the peace.   
  
The sun was beginning to set when he finally picked up his books and headed into the parking lot, willing himself to turn back around with every step forward he took. The Jaguar had been a farce of a gift for his sixteenth birthday, seen by others as an act of deep compassion. He knew his father better than anyone and, as a result, knew David Copeland had never made a compassionate gesture in the past seventeen years, and probably not in his life. Everything he did had an alterior motive; the car was given not because of any real desire to be generous but just to show he had the money to do such a thing. It was that knowledge that made him throw his books in the backseat and fish his keys from his pocket, then run them across the side door, a satisfying scraping noise accompanying the ugly line made in the paint. It was a small move of defiance, but one enough to make Adam smile to himself.   
  
The next several hours were spent driving aimlessly, taking a disinterested tour of downtown Toronto. All of the joy the city might have otherwise held for him was gone thanks to having spent most of his formative years in the most expensive stores it offered to buy clothes he hated every time his father was bringing business partners home. At least now he was old enough to either drive away or just lock himself in his room whenever David insisted on introducing him to people he couldn't care less about.   
  
It had not, however, been in his plans to go to the Super Stop-n-Shop again. Maybe it was an effort on the part of his subconscience, telling him to "accidentally" run into Jay again. Now he just needed an excuse to go inside other than to gleefully announce he was a stalker in training.   
  
He opened the door, wondering for a moment if he was truly losing his mind, then stepped out into the pouring rain. Might as well go, he rationalized, trotting into the store amidst a group of teenagers so that he wouldn't be spotted. Once he was safely inside and out of Jay's line of vision, he stood behind a rack of cheap sunglasses and just . . . watched. Undeterred by the curious look he received from the security guard at the door, he watched in awe-inspired silence, laughing under his breath when Jay conveniently dropped a can of soup so that it rolled across the floor and almost tripped Kristin. Though he couldn't hear everything that was said, he knew Jay mentioned something about hoping Kristin didn't fall and mess up some doctor's careful silicon work.   
  
Daring to step a bit closer, Adam crouched in front of the sunglasses rack and at the back of the first line of shopping carts. Jay, Adam decided, looked bored out of his mind. At least the view was nice, though; from his vantage point on the ground, Adam could clearly see Jay was wearing a form-fitting pair of faded blue jeans and a dark blue shirt, the back side left visible despite the green apron he wore. His blond hair was pulled back; shame, too, Adam noted to himself.   
  
That was it. Never mind the fact they didn't really know each other. Adam made up his mind to ask Jay out the next chance he got.  
  
Then it happened -- startled when he thought he heard feet shuffling behind him, Adam struggled against his position to get to his feet, managing only to trip over the leg of the sunglass rack and tip it over on himself. Even if Jay's register *was* the closest one, that still wasn't exactly the way Adam had hoped to get his attention.   
  
Looking up, he saw a pair of surprised but humored eyes looking down at him -- the most unusual blend of green, blue, and gray Adam could recall seeing. He held up the first pair of sunglasses his right hand came across.   
  
"I, uh, wanna buy these."   
  
Jay took the sunglasses and looked them over, then turned his attention back to Adam. "I can't really see you in pink butterfly glasses, man. I think there's a green butterfly pair somewhere."   
  
"No, the pink ones are fine. Really."   
  
God, kill me now, Adam prayed silently, forcing a nervous smile for Jay's and the gathering crowd's benefit. God, please, just take me now. I'll live fast, die young, and leave a good looking corpse. God, I . . .y'know, he's got a really cute grin.   
  
Adam groaned and let his head fall back against the floor.   
  
"Whoa! Easy there, buddy. Don't want you hurting yourself and suing or something just as drastic." Jay reached down and helped Adam to his feet, completely oblivious to how the touch made Adam's stomach sommersault and do a happy little dance. "Move along, folks, just a demonstration from another graceless blonde," Jay announced, shooing the crowd with one hand and trying to steady Adam with the other. "You okay?"   
  
"Yeah. My ego's hurt, but I'll live."   
  
"Too bad. You should've broken a bone or something and sued to put this place outta business."   
  
Adam rolled his eyes as they went back to the register. "Gee, your thoughtfulness is astounding."   
  
Jay only gave that charming grin in response. Adam was sorely tempted to reach over and slap it off his face, just to keep himself from smiling like a lovesick idiot.   
  
"You're in luck!" Jay exclaimed happily, holding the sunglasses up. "They're on clearance! Three-fifty."   
  
Ask now! Adam's mind shouted at him. Just ask and get it over with! He fought with his mind and every last ounce of his common sense as he pulled his wallet from his pocket, but all hope of rational thought was lost when he looked back and was given his first chance to take a good look at Jay's face. Adam knew Jay wasn't breath-takingly handsome, but there was an innocence, a youthful charm about him that just made him that much cuter. The traces of stubble on his chin seemed to be a decoy to keep the casual observer from looking at his eyes and seeing a boy's reflection in their depths.   
  
Any courage Adam may have gained dried up in his throat and ran screaming.   
  
"So is there any reason why you're buying sunglasses at almost midnight?" Jay asked, knocking Adam from his inner turmoil.   
  
"Nah, not really. Just remembered I needed a new pair."   
  
Jay arched an eyebrow, taking the money handed to him and opening the cash drawer. "You know what, Adam? You're full of shit."   
  
"It's what gets me through the day."   
  
Jay sighed. "Yeah, I know how that goes."   
  
"When do you get off work?" Adam asked, mentally kicking himself for the unchecked blurb. Apparently, it surprised Jay as much as it had the speaker, and he stared at the other teen wordlessly for several seconds.   
  
"In about five minutes. Why?"   
  
Think! Think, think, think . . .  
  
"I . . . um, remembered you said last night you usually walk home and it's pouring outside. I thought you might need a ride."   
  
"No," Jay replied more forcefully than he'd meant. Let this richer-than-God Oakley student see the cardboard box he was renting? Huh uh. "I need the exercise."   
  
Adam looked over Jay, thankful for the excuse to do so. "Uh huh. Pull the other one. It plays Jingle Bells."   
  
Jay sighed and leaned on his elbows on the conveyor belt. "Alright, fine. I live in a shack that an illegal immigrant would break down into hysterics at. You really don't wanna see it. Trust me."   
  
"Know what? I could really care less what your house looks like. You'll get sick if you walk home in the rain as cold as it is outside."   
  
"You never quit, do you?" Jay asked, a note of defeat in his voice. Adam shook his head, smiling as he sensed a win. Jay sighed quietly and threw his hands up in the air. "Okay. Whatever. You can gimme a ride. Just . . . if you're really some insane stalker that's gonna end up slitting my throat or something in a dark alley, let me make a phone call to Medusa over there," he jerked his head in Kristin's general direction, "to tell her how much she means to me. Deal?"   
  
"Deal."   
  
"Good. Now move. You're holding up the line." 


	3. Three

Minutes later the two walked out into the parking lot, Jay swearing curtly when a strong gust of wind blew a sheet of icy rain into his face. All complaints he might have had, however, were lost as soon as he caught his first glimpse of Adam's car. Even in the dim light provided by the overhead street lamps, its shiny black surface reflected everything around it.   
  
"Holy shit!" Jay exclaimed breathlessly, eyes simultaneously widening. Drawing closer, he reached out with a careful hand as if afraid it was a mirage that would disappear if touched. He smiled as he ran his fingertips reverantly along the roof. "You're kidding, right?"   
  
Adam shrugged and climbed into the car. Jay only shook his head and followed suit. He sighed contentedly, sinking back against the soft leather seat and letting his eyes drift closed.   
  
"You are one lucky son of a bitch."   
  
"Yeah. Lucky." Adam refused to say more on the matter, opting instead to pull out of the parking lot and turn to the right when directed. Glancing over at Jay, he had to smile a little; he looked like ... well, like Jay. Even while having only known him for a little over a day, Adam already found himself being able to put Jay into a category all his own. He was humorous but not obnoxious, charming but not flamboyant, polite but not a pushover.   
  
And most likely straight. That could present problems.   
  
"So," Adam started for conversation's sake, "how old're you?"   
  
Taken off-guard, Jay's eyelids fluttered open slowly while his brain registered the question. "Seventeen."   
  
"Huh. Me, too."   
  
"You can't even vote yet and you've got a Jaguar. Life's not fair."   
  
"No, it's not," Adam agreed without protest, taking a hard left and making Jay grip the armrest for leverage. "But anyway, you never said what school you went to."   
  
Jay's eyes closed again. "That's 'cause I don't."   
  
". . .oh."   
  
The remainder of the drive was made in silence, broken only by a few half-mumbled directions, though Jay grew quieter with every corner turned. By the time they had finally parked outside a set of shabby apartments, Jay was barely even audible. His goal was to fling the door open and be out of sight before Adam realized he was gone. His goal, like most of his other ones, was shot down before the second phase.   
  
The car was turned off. Jay groaned inwardly, knowing that could mean only one thing.   
  
"You can't come in. It's a mess, and the only person I let inside's my mom. Well, and my landlord, but . . ." Trailing off when he noticed Adam's blank expression, he sighed. "But then, I guess you wouldn't know anything about messes, since you live at the stately Wayne Manor and all."   
  
Adam gave a tiny little grin, feeling his spirits lift slightly. "It's not very smart to make stereotypes about people. My room's a mess, trust me. The housekeepers refuse to go in there because they say it's a hazardous work environment."   
  
Jay arched his eyebrows. "You know what I said about you being full o' shit earlier? I meant it."   
  
"No way to talk to your chauffeur," Adam chastised.   
  
"Hey, you back off, man. I've got blackmail on you."   
  
"Like what?"   
  
In one swift movement, Jay turned and grabbed the bag from the backseat and pulled out the pink fuzzy sunglasses with the springy butterfly antennae on either side. "These. Now if *these* wouldn't raise some questions, I don't know what would."   
  
Adam blanched. He had a point and what was worse, the brat knew it. Of course, Adam reasoned, he could always just tell him he'd been stalking him and accidentally knocked over the sunglasses display, but he thought that might be a bit too extreme at the moment.   
  
Jay gave a quiet sigh of defeat. "You're not gonna stop giving me that damned lost puppy look anytime soon, are you?"   
  
"Huh uh."   
  
More amused than irritated by then, Jay stepped out onto the sidewalk, stretched his legs, and started walking toward the door, not having to look behind to know the heavy footfalls behind him were Adam's. Lanky though he might have been, he was about as quiet as an elephant walking on bubble wrap. Once the passcode was entered to open the door, he pulled the handle, cursed, hit the box again, and opened the door with more success the second time around. Adam squinted, hardly able to see anything thanks to the faded lights above.   
  
"It's dark in here. You'll get used to it." Jay started up the stairs, smirking when he heard a loud thud and Adam swearing viciously. "Is that what they teach you in private school? Anyway, the stairs are really close together. You'll get used to that, too."   
  
Adam huffed, picking himself up off the second step and brushing himself off, surprised to see chips of gray paint fluttering to the floor as a result. He turned to comment on it, only to see that Jay was at the top of the staircase and about to turn to ascend another. At least one benefit of being taller meant having longer legs, thus being able to catch up without too much of a struggle.   
  
After three more flights of impossibly close steps, Jay stopped outside a door and slid a key into the lock. The door swung inward on creaking hinges, making Adam's eyes work to readjust themselves to the thick darkness inside. He was feeling his way along the wall to his right while Jay closed the door, on the hunt for a light switch.   
  
"I wouldn't do that right now. You'll scare the roaches and it won't be pretty." Jay looked over, enough light in the room to see Adam's eyes wide and almost frightened. "Joke. Laugh. Ha. Pretend it was funny."   
  
If he hadn't known better, he could have sworn he heard Adam sigh in relief.   
  
"Aw, you're no fun. At least Mom hit me when I said that the first time." A click, then artificial yellow light flooded the room, once again sending Adam's sensitive eyes into a fit. When he dared to open them again, he saw a cramped, unkept living room that joined to an equally as messy kitchen, and to his left, something that he supposed was a hallway led to a bedroom.   
  
"Want something to eat or anything?" Jay asked, already having walked into the kitchen. Adam, not hearing or too busy nosing to answer, kept quiet. "Lessee...we've got water, some milk that I'm using to develop small life forms, the syrupy stuff at the bottom of the Coke bottle, um . . . orange juice . . . at least that's what I think it is." He took it out and sniffed the carton, made a face, and hastily shoved it to the back of the refrigerator. "God. I don't know what that is, but I'm pretty sure you could wipe out a third world country if you poured it on their crops."   
  
He walked back into the living room, kicking his shoes off as he went and leaving them in different places, something that would no doubt drive him crazy the next time he left the house. Adam turned from where he was inspecting a line of pictures on a shelf that had somehow remained relatively clean to see Jay pulling the rubber band from his hair with one hand and holding a beer bottle in the other.   
  
"Aren't you too young to buy that stuff?"   
  
"Yep. There're advantages to working with older friends," Jay grinned, taking an indulgent drink from the bottle and tossing the rubber band into an empty ashtray on top of the television. "I'd offer you one, but you're driving. And besides, this is my last one and I'm sure as hell not sharing it."   
  
"You're all heart."   
  
Jay belched loudly in response and launched himself into the recliner across from the couch.   
  
"Can I ask you something?" Adam asked a bit timidly, uncharacteristic given he'd been more or less obsessing over and stalking someone he just met the night before. It didn't seem to bother Jay, though, as he simply nodded. "Why don't you live with your parents?"   
  
"It was either here or the psyche ward, and I took my chances on my own. I love my mom, don't get me wrong, but she was just . . . I dunno. I needed space."   
  
"And your father?"   
  
Jay suddenly took a false interest in peeling the label from his beer bottle. "My dad died of cancer a few years ago. Mom remarried last year. He's alright, I guess, but we don't get along very well."   
  
Adam nodded in understanding, going back to the pictures. That was when his heart almost fell through the floor; evidence he'd been hoping not to see stood out in the form of a sickeningly cute framed photo of Jay and a cute, perky blond girl sharing a tire swing. So he was straight. Fine. Adam figured he'd just go home and throw himself onto the first rusty spike that conveniently jumped out at him. Easy enough.   
  
"Girlfriend?"   
  
Please, let it be a sister . . .  
  
Jay snorted and downed the rest of the bottle's contents. "Ex. Do me a favor and burn that one."   
  
Thankful his back was turned, Adam allowed himself a quick smile. Okay, so maybe he might be completely straight, but at least he was single and available.   
  
Moving further down the shelf, Adam's eyebrows raised when he found a small photo in the second row as if hidden. He pulled it out to see Jay in a navy blue graduation gown. His cap hung from his mouth by the tassle, and he seemed to be trying to push his rolled up diploma through his ears.   
  
Jay noticed the picture and groaned. "Mom *said* she was out of film. She lied to me." Seeing Adam staring quizically down at the photo, Jay's lips turned up into a faint sneer. "What? You thought I dropped out, didn't you?"   
  
"No! I mean, I just . . . you said you didn't go . . ."   
  
Jay stopped him, waving away the stumbling apology with a flick of his wrist. "Most people think I dropped out when I tell 'em I'm not in school. I graduated a year early. Skipped sixth grade. I guess someone somewhere got the impression I was smart. I guess I sure screwed them over, didn't I?"   
  
Though the remark had been made as a joke, the tone was more than a little self-berating, make Adam frown. "Why d'ya say that?"   
  
Jay shrugged and tossed the empty bottle into a nearby trash can.   
  
Going on, Adam came across another photo, this time of one with Jay in a hideous bright purple costume with some sort of bizarre striped pattern on the sides. While he appeared to be attempting a menacing snarl, he really looked close to bursting out in laughter.   
  
Adam turned enough to show the picture, wry grin tugging at his mouth. Jay groaned and buried his head against the back of the chair. "My first costume. It's, uh, one of my sadder moments. For obvious reasons."   
  
"I can see that." Adam chuckled lightly, settling onto the couch and taking the picture with him. "I used to watch this stuff."   
  
"Used to?"   
  
Adam shrugged, setting the picture on the coffee table in front of him. "I used to try to do the moves and everything in my room. My father drew the line after I dislocated an elbow pretending I was Randy Savage," he admitted with a sheepish grin. "Besides. He said it was 'barbaric and uncivilized' or something along that line."   
  
Before he could finish, he saw something small and furry creeping along off to his left, and Adam looked up in time for a hyper kitten to pounce on the zipper of his jacket. "Heeey . . . what's this?" He asked, grinning to himself and scratching the kitten's chin, making him purr happily.   
  
"One of those roaches I warned you about. They grow big an' furry around here."   
  
"He's cute. What's his name?"   
  
"Ash."   
  
Adam looked the kitten over and then raised an eyebrow at Jay. "Ash?"   
  
Jay shrugged. "It's from a movie."   
  
Picking the kitten up and setting it on his thigh so it could reach the zipper better, Adam nodded. "Evil Dead, right?"   
  
". . . yeah." Jay blinked. "How'd you know?"   
  
Adam abandoned playing with Ash long enough to meet Jay's eyes. "There're things you don't know about me, either."   
  
Deciding it was best not to continue along that topic, Jay quickly changed the subject, pointing to the kitten hanging upside down from Adam's jacket. "If you let him do that, he'll never stop until he gets every zipper off every piece of clothing you have on."   
  
If he'd heard, Adam ignored Jay and instead continued teasing Ash by dangling the corner of his jacket up over the kitten's head. "I wish I had a pet."   
  
"Why don't you? Don't tell me you don't have enough room."   
  
Adam barely glanced up. "My father's allergic to anything furry, I think. A three story house apparently isn't big enough to have a pet and keep him happy," he admitted quietly, though not without a strong note of bitterness. "I think I had a fish when I was little, but that doesn't count."   
  
"Y'know, your father . . . he, uh, sounds kinda . . . well . . ."   
  
"Like an insufferable asshole? That's 'cause he is," Adam supplied without missing a beat. Jay blinked in surprise.   
  
"Well . . . yeah. Sorry."   
  
"Don't apologize. He hasn't. I don't see why you should, either."   
  
"Hey, if I said something wrong, I didn't mean --"   
  
"It's alright," Adam assurred, finally tiring off the zipper game and letting Ash fall on his back on the couch cushion and start chewing at the zipper by himself. "I just don't like talking about him."   
  
Jay, never one to fear treading on thin ice, ventured on. "Any reason why?"   
  
"Yeah, lots of 'em, but don't expect me to talk about them either," Adam replied curtly, eyes narrowed slightly but level with Jay's. Jay, being who he was, decided that even he had a limit, and that some ice was simply not meant to be tread. He backed off accordingly. 


	4. Four

Note: As always, thanks so much for the lovely reviews, guys! I love ya. Mwah!   
  
----  
  
"Get. Off."   
  
"Meeeeeow!"  
  
"Ash, I'm warning you --"   
  
"Rowr!"   
  
"Ow! You freaking evil little . . . hey, get back here! Don't walk away from me when I'm talking!"   
  
Jay groaned and pulled a pillow over his face, making a half-hearted attempt to smother himself. He could faintly hear Ash playing hockey on the kitchen tile with a stray piece of cat food and the people in the apartment next to his having their traditional early morning fight. Forcing his eyes open, he noticed a gray, overcast sky outside the window and thin lines of rain streaming down the glass surface. His alarm clock had, as usual, decided not to work again, thus forcing Ash to do the job. Ash was much more forceful, having sharp claws and teeth and being much quicker than his sleeping owner.   
  
Rolling over onto his stomach and very nearly completely out of bed, Jay noticed the clock glaring back in the stubborn digital red way it always did. Ten past eleven. On a Saturday morning. Not bad. Ash, however, was throwing a fit. It was dark inside the apartment, he was bored, and the human wouldn't get out of bed just to entertain him. That would probably explain why he'd hopped up on Jay's shoulder just to bite his ear and wake him up.   
  
Giving in, Jay rolled the rest of the way out of bed and landed with a dull thump on the floor, much to Ash's delight. The kitten immediately came bounding over, stopping short when Jay fixed him with the meanest look he could manage.   
  
"You know the rules. Not before I have breakfast."   
  
"Meow!"   
  
"Don't sass me, young man." Jay stopped, then shook his head. "Oh, God, I really am losing it."   
  
Ash just sat down and scratched behind his ear.   
  
After somehow managing to pull himself up from the floor with the help of the bed and the night stand, Jay padded barefoot into the bathroom and winced at his reflection in the mirror. His hair was standing up everywhere, a small forest was in the process of growing on his face, and a bruise was forming on his left shoulder, though he honestly had no idea what had caused it.   
  
All in a day's work.   
  
Fifteen minutes later he walked back out of the bathroom in something he hoped was somewhat presentable fashion, freshly showered even though he'd had to beg, plead, and threaten the showerhead to work for him. As always, a few swift kicks to the shower wall helped his situation.   
  
The breakfast he'd scolded Ash about forgetting consisted of a bowl of Cocoa Pebbles and half a glass of chocolate milk. At least the sugar rush first thing in the morning would be nice.   
  
He yawned lightly, staring miserably out a window to see the rain was growing heavier. Not having much else to occupy themselves, his thoughts eventually drifted back to the previous night. Adam had ended up staying until well past two a.m., but despite Jay's frequent suggestions that he stay there for the remainder of the night, Adam left anyway. The conversations that had held him there so long in the first place ran the gamut, everything from video games to bands to movies.   
  
And, much as he was loathe to admit he had anything at all in common with an Oakley student, Jay found himself having an uncanny amount of shared interests with Adam.   
  
Now as long as Adam didn't turn out to be that insane psychotic stalker, everything might work out nicely.   
  
******  
  
"You, uh, do know it's raining outside, right?"   
  
"Yup."   
  
Michael Pulley was nothing if not realistic. It was because of that minor character flaw that he couldn't figure out why he was standing at the doorway joining the kitchen and garage, a heavy bucket of water in his hands.   
  
"And you *do* know there's a car wash a few blocks from here, I'm assuming."   
  
"Uh huh."   
  
"And you still want to wash your car . . . in the garage . . . while it's raining out . . ."   
  
"Yeah."   
  
"Okay. I just wanted to make sure." Mike sighed and placed the bucket on the ground, then looked up at the younger man. Adam was scrubbing diligently at the hood of the car, stepping back every now and then to observe and then going right back to the spot. Mike said nothing of the scratch standing out sharply on the door.   
  
Far be it for him to ruin a good thing, but he couldn't decide what had put Adam in such a good mood. Not only had he been halfway civil to his father that morning, but he'd also insisted on helping cook breakfast. Of course, there was a reason why he had been more or less pushed out into the garage. Many reasons, actually, among them being he'd set the kitchen fire alarm off twice and almost was successful in sending the toaster up in flames. Sophie, having enough of it, thanked him for his help but still shoved him out the side door and locked it behind him, promising to let him in just as soon as she cooked the meal herself.   
  
Even the fact he was seemingly an arsonist at heart couldn't bring down Adam's insanely good mood, it appeared. It was, quite honestly, scaring Mike.   
  
"Well, if you really must do this right now, can't you at least listen to something I can understand?" Mike pleaded, casting a mournful glance to the CD player set up by the kitchen door. Adam shook his head and began work on the tires. "All I can hear is rawr-rawr-rawr."   
  
"Tool."   
  
"What?"   
  
Adam looked up to show strands of wet hair clinging to his face. "The band. It's Tool."   
  
Mike's brow furrowed. "Tool? A tool is what goes in a shed or a box. Not something you'd name your band after."   
  
"They did."   
  
"I'm just getting old then, I suppose," Mike sighed regretfully, seating himself on an empty crate that had been upturned. "Mind if I ask you something?"   
  
"Depends on what it is."   
  
Mike closed his eyes and said a quick prayer. "Why are you so cheerful? I haven't seen you this cheerful in . . . hell, I don't know if I've *ever* seen you this cheerful, come to think of it."   
  
Adam shrugged. "I dunno. I met someone a couple days ago and they're actually a lot like me."   
  
Ah. That's where he'd seen it before, Mike realized suddenly. It was the look of a teenage boy in love. This was going to be worse than he originally thought. "And who is this 'someone', hmm?" When met with silence, he pressed on. "Is this someone male or female?"   
  
Adam scowled. "I know where this is going."   
  
"I'm curious."   
  
Sighing quietly, Adam dropped the rag he'd been using into the bucket. "Blond, funny, really nice blue-gray eyes, and the most incredible voice. He's -- shit," Adam groaned, slapping himself on the forehead for having slipped. Mike grinned victoriously.   
  
"I knew it! It's the boy you were talking to at the store, isn't it?" Greeted only by stubborn silence and a barely visible nod, Mike laughed. "Wow. You move fast, huh? Two days is some kind of record for you." Sobering just as quickly, however, Mike cleared his throat and caught Adam's gaze. "Sometimes I think you do these things just to drive David insane."   
  
"If that was my real goal, I'd quit school and become a drag queen."   
  
Mike raised his eyebrows. "And a very ugly one at that." When hit in the head with a soggy sponge, he chuckled. "What? Have you ever seen a six-foot-something woman with a goatee? Which reminds me -- when are you going to shave that sorry little fuzz off, anyway?"   
  
"Hey, incase you've forgotten, jeeves, you work for me. I can snap my fingers and have you gone in a minute," Adam warned, adopting a stuffy, aristocratic accent for emphasis.   
  
"No, not really. Then you'd have to figure out how to operate the washing machine."   
  
"Damn. Fouled again."   
  
"Job security, kid."   
  
"Sounds more like you've got a monopoly on the washing around here to me."   
  
Mike shrugged. "Whatever you wanna call it. I'm still working." He paused, glancing behind him as if expecting someone to be watching over his shoulder. "Seriously, though, Adam. I hope you know what you're doing."   
  
"With what?"   
  
"With this guy you're obsessing over. I don't need to tell you what your father thinks about --"   
  
"No, you don't," Adam interrupted, green eyes narrowing into thin slits. "I think I'm pretty sure how he feels about every last damn thing about my life, but see, the problem is that it's *my* life, not his, and he has no right trying to rule over me."   
  
Mike tapped his fingers against his kneecaps. "So why don't you try telling him that?"   
  
"I have," Adam admitted in a voice so low and soft it was just barely audible. "Let's just say he didn't see things my way."   
  
A tense, quiet moment followed, broken by Mike's clothes rustling as he stood. "I've seen how your father acts with you, Adam, and just so you know, I'm not going to just sit around and watch him do it again."   
  
Adam lowered his eyes and finished his work on the car in silence. 


	5. Five

Notes: Once again, thanks for the reviews, guys! This chapter's pretty short. Sorry about that, but when I'm writing I don't usually split the fics into chapters. That makes awkward stuff. Ah well. Anyway, this one's just a short lead-in to the next chapter, where the poo hits the proverbial fan. :)  
  
------  
  
One week later, Adam once again found himself watching Jay from afar, but at least this time his presence was known. He sat at the top of the bleachers of a local high school gym, feeling a bit out of place in his black leather jacket and newly bought clothes. David had insisted the previous day that Adam buy new clothes for a business dinner party that he'd deceived himself into believing his son would attend. Adam couldn't kill the satisfaction bubbling inside at the thought of what his father would do if he knew Adam was wearing the outfit while reliving his childhood, watching large guys in tights pretend to hit each other.   
  
It had taken several days for Adam to work up the courage to ask Jason out, due in part to his generally shy nature, but mostly because of having already convinced himself that Jay was totally and completely straight. All evidence certainly seemed to point in that direction. However, Common Sense had beaten Newly-Found Courage to a bloody pulp in the eternal inner struggle for emotional dominance, resulting in him faltering at the last minute and instead treating Jay to lunch at McDonald's. Nothing said "I like you" more than chicken nuggets, or so Adam had jokingly told his wounded ego. As something of a grateful return gesture, Jay gave Adam free tickets to that evening's event and invited him to come watch. Adam wasn't altogether certain that he could really watch a sweaty, shirtless Jay in skintight clothes.   
  
Nevertheless, perseverance had always been Adam's strong point and major character flaw, so he was willing to give it a shot anyway.   
  
Jay, meanwhile, was happily oblivious to the fact his not-so-secret admirer had been watching his every move and, at the same time, been trying to once again figure out how to ask him out. Rather, he was attempting -- and unsuccessfully at that -- to find his socks. He distinctly remembered throwing them on top of his duffel bag before heading to the shower after his match. They were not, however, anywhere around the bag, beneath it, inside it, beside it, or anywhere else to be seen by the human eye.   
  
It was for that reason he was acutely aware of the mild snickering behind him. Of course, he couldn't really blame whoever it was for laughing; they had just entered the locker room to see Jay on his hands and knees, halfway beneath a wooden bench, digging through the pile of discarded clothes from various wrestlers in hunt for his socks.   
  
"Jay. Dude. Do I even wanna know?"   
  
Jay gave a quiet sigh of defeat and backed out from underneath the bench, resting back on his heels. He scrubbed a hand through his hair, still damp from the shower, making a few loose strands plaster themselves to his face. "I lost my socks."   
  
"You're the only guy I know who needs a fucking secretary just to keep track of all his clothes."   
  
Erin Walker was nothing if not observant. He smirked, settling down beside Jay's gym bag and looking down at his friend.   
  
"And the sad thing is, that has pretty much nothing to do with getting laid."   
  
Jay rolled his eyes and gave up on his search, choosing to just settle for what he still had in his possession. "Y'know," he started, slipping into a heavy gray sweatshirt, "I swear I think that's the only thing you think about."   
  
"There's something else worth thinking about?"   
  
"Food."   
  
"Jay, buddy, we're wrestlers in training, and unlike you, I actually have to pay attention to what I eat. That means living off granola bars and oatmeal for the next thirty years or so."   
  
Jay arched an eyebrow in protest. "Fine. Sports. You're Canadian. You're a hockey fan by default."   
  
He was met only with a broad grin. "Yeah, but sex doesn't have an off-season."   
  
"I was right the first time. You're just a lost cause." Jay shook his head while sliding a belt through the loops in his jeans. That was when he noticed Erin watching him intently. "Um . . . there a reason why you're lookin' at me like that?"   
  
Erin shrugged carelessly, immediately turning his attention to unlacing his wrestling boots. "Just wondering about something."   
  
"You know where my socks went, don't you?"   
  
"I had nothing to do with your sock crisis, Jay. I wouldn't touch the things. God knows where they've been." Erin mocked a shudder, easily dodging the shoe thrown at his head, making it connect noisily with the locker behind him. "Actually, I saw you with that guy earlier. Somethin' you're not tellin' me?"   
  
Hands pausing at his belt buckle, Jay frowned and turned inquisitive eyes to the older boy. "Huh?"   
  
Erin huffed in exasperation. "Don't tell me it's been that long since the last time someone checked you out." When greeted only with a blank expression, Erin chuckled nervously. "You, uh, didn't notice, did you?"   
  
"What was I supposed to notice?"   
  
"Dude. He was all over you. It was almost cute in a sickening sorta way."   
  
Once his brain finally registered what was being alluded to, Jay fastened his belt and then slumped down onto the bench on the opposite side of his bag. "Nah, I don't think . . . I mean, look at him. The guy's a freaking Adonis, just about. He could get any girl he wants."   
  
"Sweet, naive, dumbass Jay," Erin shook his head, clapping his friend on the shoulder, "open your eyes, man. He don't want a girl, okay?"   
  
Jay, too stunned to say much of anything, leaned back against a locker and focused on the overhead lights, flickering just slightly the annoying way flourescent lights always seemed to do when he was around. Adam wasn't gay. Gay guys were supposed to be touchy-feely and write poetry and watch sunsets, not be avid hockey fans and with what was probably the world's most exhaustive collection of rock and metal magazines. Adam knew that Evil Dead was a movie and, moreover, had seen it! He couldn't be gay. Jay knew it.   
  
Then again, that would certainly explain quite a few things about him.   
  
Jay groaned and let his eyes slide shut. Why did these things happen to him? And, more importantly, why didn't the idea of being a possibly gay guy's object of affection revolt him, or even bother him as much as he knew it should have?   
  
Before any significant amount of time could be devoted to the questions eating at him, Jay's thoughts were interrupted by something soft hitting him in the face. He looked down to see a pair of black socks resting in his lap. Erin stood at the door, grinning smugly.   
  
"You're so easy. But hey, man, you had a good match. See ya next Friday, huh?"   
  
Jay gave a numb, uncaring nod, watching the locker room swing shut and connect with a loud metallic sound. Suddenly, the socks didn't seem quite so important anymore. 


	6. Six

Outside in the parking lot, Jay was trying everything he knew to keep his mind off Adam. All those hopes went down in flames when he spotted Adam sitting on the stone edge of a flowerbed, chucking pieces of mulch from it to the opposite side of the door.   
  
"You're really gonna piss off some janitor if you keep doing that," Jay warned with a half-hearted grin. Adam, startled at having been noticed, dropped a wood chip and looked up sheepishly.   
  
"Sorry. Got bored."   
  
Jay shrugged and took a glance at his watch. Almost seven and the sun was doing its best to stay above the horizon. That meant he could go home and spend the night with Ash, a bag of cheap popcorn, and Mad About You reruns. Or he could confront Adam about everything Erin had just said.   
  
"Hey, Adam?"   
  
The only problem with that second option was trying to force the words out with those infuriatingly charming green eyes boring into his. It didn't help that Adam was waiting patiently for him to say something.   
  
"Uh . . ." Adam's eyebrows lifted in something that might have been amusement, something that only frustrated Jay that much more. "I was wondering about something."   
  
"Dangerous pasttime."   
  
Jay silently cursed the taller boy for having interrupted his stream of thought and thus completely shattering what little nerve he'd been able to gather. Consequently, he stood gaping at Adam like the dummy he felt like before finally heaving a tiny sigh of defeat.   
  
"What's it like living in a mansion?"   
  
Taken aback by the question, Adam didn't answer for several moments. When he finally did, his voice was soft and more than a little indicative that he really didn't appreciate having to answer at all. "It's not a mansion."   
  
"Shyeah. Whatever. It's three stories. That counts as a mansion in my view. Your room's prob'ly bigger than my entire apartment." Not given any kind of response, Jay snorted and followed Adam to the car. "Oh my God. It is, isn't it?"   
  
Once he was in the driver's seat, Adam huffed and looked over to his right to see Jay still watching him expectantly. "Fine. No. It's . . . well, it's about half the size, but that's not the point."   
  
"When do I get to see it?" Jay blurted suddenly. If the look on Adam's face was any indication, it was that he was just as surprised as Jay was.   
  
"Uh . . . well, my father's having some sort of business dinner or something tonight, so you'd have to wait for the grand tour. If you really want to, though, you can hide out in my room with me."   
  
"I take it you don't typically play a good host to the company, huh?"   
  
"That's putting it lightly." Pulling out of the parking lot and into the street, Adam glanced over at Jay. "You'd probably be better off going home, to be perfectly honest."   
  
Home. Jay sneered inwardly at the thought. Visions of throwing bits of popcorn across the room for Ash to chase popped up in his mind, making him shake his head.   
  
"I let you see my place. I think it's fair I get to see yours."   
  
Although Adam blanched faintly, he still shrugged in an attempt to appear careless. "Suit yourself."   
  
Jay, meanwhile, looked like a wide-eyed child as the city and its familiar scenery melted away, giving way to things that had for the most part been foreign to him. Tall buildings and the bustle of city life faded into the peaceful landscape Jay rarely had the time to enjoy.   
  
"We're in the middle of nowhere," Jay commented after ten solid minutes of silence.   
  
"Uh, actually, we're just in the suburbs."   
  
"Dude. I think I saw a cow about a mile back. We're in Green freaking Acres."   
  
"Does the word 'paranoid cityboy' mean anything at all to you?" Adam asked with a hint of a grin. Jay, insulted that he was being mocked, folded his arms across his chest.   
  
"Not a thing. Why'd'ya ask?"   
  
Adam laughed, feeling his sour mood begin to fade. On the other side of the car, Jay was trying his best not to show how impressed he was with the sprawling estate. Even from a distance, the house was still grandiose with its three-tier structure and elaborate wrap-around veranda. The long, paved driveway leading to the dual door garage was lined with small lights in the ground, making it look more like a private jet landing than a driveway.   
  
Jay whistled as the garage door opened and they drove inside. "Wow."   
  
"What?"   
  
Jay gave a tiny, almost embarrassed smile. "Nothing. I just figured the garage floor would be paved with gold or something."   
  
"If my father had his way about it, it would be," Adam admitted maliciously, shutting the car off and stretching his legs once he stepped out of the car. No sooner had he stuck the keys in his jeans pocket than Sophie's salt-and-pepper-colored head poked through the open kitchen door, her face seeming as frantic and hurried as always.   
  
"Oh. Hi," she greeted Jay before immediately turning her attention to Adam. "Where've you been? David's been throwing a fit. You're twenty minutes late."   
  
"That's nice."   
  
"What? Adam, he hasn't been in a good mood all day. Don't make him --"   
  
"When is he *ever* in a good mood?" Adam shot back. Jay shuffled his feet.   
  
"Maybe I-I should come back later."   
  
"No, it's fine," Adam assured without so much as a glance over his shoulder. "I'll just tell him not to expect me, and if he doesn't like it, tough."   
  
"Adam, don't," Sophie urged, a note of warning creeping into her voice. "Please, hon, just go along with him tonight and --"   
  
By then having made his way into the kitchen, Adam grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator and slammed the door shut, sending a magnet skittering across the floor. He paid no attention to it. "I am so fucking *tired* of going along with him! All I'm good for is to be some kinda new toy he shows off to other rich white guys I couldn't care less about!"   
  
"Keep your voice down," Sophie hissed, eyes darting over his shoulder to look into the main room where several of David's business associates had stopped chatting amongst themselves to see what the problem was in the kitchen.   
  
Adam, however, had reached his breaking point. "I'm nothing to him but a glorified whore, Sophie, and you know it."   
  
Almost as soon as the words had left his throat he noticed Sophie turn her eyes to the floor, taking a sudden false interest in the blue and white tiled pattern. Turning, he nearly ran directly into his father. As an understatement, he did not look very happy.   
  
"Nice of you to make an appearance."   
  
"Nice of you to pretend you care," Adam replied venomously, eyes narrowing. "I told you last night I didn't want anything to do with whatever company you're trying to buy out now."   
  
"We've already had this discussion, son," David went on, heavily emphasizing the last word, "and I thought I told you I didn't particularly give a damn what you wanted."   
  
"You did, but when was the last time I listened to you?"   
  
Anger and frustration flaring in his eyes, David gestured to Jay, standing by the kitchen island and pretending he was a chameleon. "I'm giving you the opportunity to meet the people who'll be ensuring you a fortune someday, Adam, and how do you repay me? By coming home and acting like a spoiled brat and bringing your latest fling with you just to throw it in everyone's face that I apparently raised a queer?"   
  
Adam flinched but held his ground, despite the way every word twisted the knife in his back a little more each time.   
  
"David, why don't you --"   
  
"Back off," David growled without even looking up at Sophie and her pleading eyes. Instead, he reached out and grabbed Adam's face with his right hand, thumb and forefinger squeezing his cheeks painfully tight. "Fine. Have it your way. Go right on up to your room and screw your new boyfriend, I don't really give a damn anymore. But let me make one thing clear: if you *ever* embarrass me like this again, you'll regret it."   
  
Turning sharply on his heel, he stalked back off into the main room, for all outward appearances a happy man. Adam, on the other hand, stood motionless for several seconds before finally meeting Jay's worried eyes.   
  
"Welcome to my life," he half-whispered with a bitter, sideways mockery of a smile. Without another word he began the long walk up the staircase, stopping at the top when he heard his father begin talking to his companions as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.   
  
"Sorry for the interruption, gentlemen. Teenagers."   
  
A low rumbling of chuckles echoed in the room. Had it not been for Jay's thoughtful intervention in pushing Adam down the hallway, Adam might very well have gone back in for round two.   
  
Choosing to remain silent, Adam stopped at the first door on his right and pushed it open. Jay's appreciative choking noise at the size of it meant little to him.   
  
"This is . . . whoa," Jay mumbled if for no other reason than to try to get Adam's mind off of everything that had just happened. "Your closet's the size of my kitchen!" Walking further into the room, Jay laughed and walked into the bathroom. "You have a freaking *bathroom* in your bedroom. This is insane! Has Robin Leech ever visited your house before?"   
  
With his voice getting fainter and harder to hear, Adam presumed Jay had just discovered the opposite bathroom door led into an empty spare room. That was his first mistake. His second was assuming it was safe to change from the heavy black sweatshirt he was wearing into something lighter that wouldn't suffocate him. The shirt was halfway up over his head when he heard the bathroom door shut behind him. Too late he turned and hastily pulled the shirt back down.   
  
"Were you raised in a barn?"   
  
Too stunned to go along with the nervous joke, Jay never made an attempt to shut his mouth, having dropped open in unhidden shock. "What was that?"   
  
"What was what?"   
  
"Turn around."   
  
"It's nothing, Jay, just --"   
  
"Turn the fuck around!"   
  
As overzealous as he sometimes tended to be, Adam wasn't about to argue when presented with a side of Jay he had never seen. He turned, hesitating a moment before sighing quietly and lifting his shirt the rest of the way up. He jumped a bit at the feeling of Jay's fingertips lightly brushing his skin, making delicate trails from his shoulder blades to the waistband of his jeans. Under any other circumstances it might have been a pleasant experience. It was the knowledge that Jay was not touching the skin itself but what was on it that denied him any amount of joy.   
  
Jay stared in horror at the various scars crisscrossing Adam's back, some deeper and longer than others, some faded, some standing out in discolored boldness to show they had formed not so long ago. "W-What . . . your dad did this, didn't he?"   
  
"He's my *father*," Adam snapped irritably. "He's never given me a reason to call him 'dad'. And yeah."   
  
"But why?"   
  
Adam snorted. "Hell if I know. I've been asking myself that for years now. Some of 'em are 'cause my grades weren't high enough, or 'cause he'd had a bad day and needed someone to take it out on . . . most of 'em, though, are 'cause he doesn't think very highly of my, uh, ambiguity." Adam sighed quietly, resting his forehead against the wall and letting his eyes drift shut. "A couple months ago I was . . . well, I was seeing a guy, and he was at my house once. My father's flight came in early and he showed up before he was scheduled to, and he ended up catching me an' this guy making out. He pretty much flipped out." Drawing in a deep, shuddering breath, Adam closed his eyes tighter as if that would somehow ease the pain the memories brought. "Decided he was going to teach me not to do things like that because he wasn't going to have a 'disgusting fag' for a son, I think were his exact words."   
  
"Are you gay?" Jay asked softly for lack of something better to say. Adam shrugged.   
  
"There are some guys I like, yeah. You tell me if that makes me gay or not."   
  
"Well, I, uh, guess it could." Jay paused, letting the shirt fall back down and meeting Adam's eyes once he turned back around. "You're bigger than him. Why don't you fight back?"   
  
Adam didn't respond for several moments, and when he did Jay had to lean forward just to hear him. "You live in this house long enough, you learn your place."   
  
Not offering any other explanation, Adam walked over to his bed and dropped down on the mattress and dug a small brown bottle from the night stand. He dry-swallowed the pill that spilled into his hand, then leaned back against the headboard, content to watch the ceiling fan spinning.   
  
Jay had never been one to let his curiosity go too long without being followed, so he picked the bottle up and looked down to see the prescription on the label. He assumed it should have surprised him more than it did when he saw it was a month's worth of Zoloft.   
  
"Two hundreds?" He asked, rattling the bottle before setting it back down on the table. "That's kinda high, isn't it?"   
  
"S'what the shrink gave me. Supposedly it's to keep me from wanting to jump off the roof or run my car into a tree or do it the quick and easy way and put a gun in my mouth." Adam looked up, a sad, maniacal grin on his lips. "But hey. I'm lucky, right? I've got it all."   
  
"Oh God, man. . ." Seeing the glassy, shimmering look in Adam's eyes, Jay sank into a chair beside the bed. It was just barely soon enough to pull Adam's trembling form closer when he broke into sobs.   
  
"I-I wanna die, Jay," Adam murmured in a voice broken by choking tears.   
  
"Hey . . . shh, no you don't." Jay tried to be reassuring even though he felt he was going to begin crying himself soon. "You just need out of this place."   
  
"I c-can't," Adam protested meekly. "I'll never get outta this place unless I die, don't you see it? That's the only way I'm ever gonna have any peace."   
  
"Shut up, Adam. Stop talking like that," Jay scolded, running helpless hands through the mass of hair strewn across his shoulder. "Shh. It'll be okay, I promise. Everything'll be okay."  
  
"I'm so sorry, Jay."   
  
"For what?"   
  
Adam pulled back, revealing a new batch of tears about to fall. "For dragging you into this. Y-you don't deserve this. It's just . . . I . . . I like you, and I guess I had some dumb idea that this time it might work out, but it won't. I'm sorry."   
  
"You haven't done anything to apologize for." Jay looked up, cupping Adam's face in his hands and brushing his thumbs along his cheeks to clear them of tears. "Nothing."   
  
"You don't understand," Adam whispered, desperately wishing Jay could just reach into his mind and know what he was talking about. There was no time to say anything else on the matter; the door opened to show David standing in the doorway, idly undoing the buttons that held his shirt sleeve tight against his wrist.   
  
"If you two are finished, I'd like a word alone with you," he announced, staring directly at his son. Jay was reluctant to let go, feeling how his new friend still trembled violently beneath his hands, but Adam eventually forced him away. "I went ahead and rescheduled the dinner. Hopefully you'll be more cooperative next time." Turning his attention to Jay, he jerked a thumb behind him to indicate Mike standing behind him. "Mike will drive you home."   
  
Jay turned questioning eyes to Adam, only to see his own gaze was fixed on the floor. "I'm off tomorrow." There was more than a subtle hint in his voice. Regardless, Adam didn't comment.   
  
The next thing Jay knew, he was being led out the door, down the stairs, back through the kitchen and into the garage. He cringed when the shouting started and when the muffled scream tore through the house. Looking over the top of the black Lexus he'd first encountered what seemed like weeks ago, he saw Mike closing his eyes before getting into the driver's side.   
  
"Whoa, hold on!" Jay demanded, pulling the passenger's side door open and peering inside. "You mean you know what's going on and you just let it fucking happen?" Mike didn't answer. "This whole place is twisted." 


	7. Seven

The purpose of a day off from work was pretty much defeated when you found yourself spending said free day watching your crackhead kitten destroy the pieces of paper you threw on the floor for it.   
  
Jay sighed and tossed his notebook onto the coffee table, wishing with all he had that something fascinating would happen. Maybe an alien abduction or earthquake would cure his boredom, not that lower Toronto was really known for either event. Still, he could hope.   
  
It was a sorry reflection of his social life when he was awake at one on a Saturday afternoon, his greatest source of entertainment coming from his hyperactive cat. His mother had called a couple hours earlier to 'catch up', her not-so-secretive way of finding out if he was dating anyone, if he needed money, and if he was ready to move back home yet. Without an event to look forward to that night, Jay was bored senseless and that certainly didn't seem likely to change anytime soon.   
  
To make things worse, he hadn't heard from Adam since he'd been more or less kicked out of the house the night before. That would explain why he almost fell off the couch when the apartment buzzer rang. He sprang to his feet, an act that made him gracelessly fall to the floor when he tripped over a misplaced shoe, but to his credit he reached the mounted phone before its fourth ring.   
  
"Yeah?"   
  
There was a pause, then the familiar sound of cars passing on the street. A throat cleared before a voice was heard. "Jay?"   
  
To save himself further embarrassment, Jay checked the relieved sigh that threatened to escape him. "'Bout time you decided to let me know you were still alive!"   
  
"Sorry." Another silent moment. "Can I make it up to you?"   
  
"Depends. Do you have Cindy Crawford with you?"   
  
"Um . . . no."  
  
"Useless prick," Jay grumbled, pulling the blanket he was using as a curtain from the window closest to him and spotting Adam on the street. "Wow. You look really tiny from up here."   
  
Adam looked up and waved. "You could always invite me up . . ."   
  
"Yeah, I could, huh?"   
  
Adam sighed and shifted his weight restlessly from one foot to the other. "I'll spring for lunch. I mean, if you wanna go and all."   
  
"You mean I don't have to kill Ash for food?"   
  
"Not unless you're into Chinese."   
  
"Awesome. I'll be down in a few minutes."   
  
Jay flinched, realizing for the first time how bored and utterly desperate he sounded. Small matter, though. He was going to check on his friend and get a free lunch to boot, so obviously there was a plus to having practically no social skills.   
  
Changed into a pair of beaten up jeans and a longsleeved Pearl Jam shirt that had been gathering dust in the back of his closet, he gave Ash a bowl of fresh water and headed out the door. Adam was, to say the least, quite surprised to see Jay almost hyper once he stepped out of the apartment complex's main door.   
  
"You're . . . chipper."   
  
"Bored, more like it," Jay corrected, squinting and sliding on a pair of dark sunglasses. Met only with quiet regard, he took the opportunity to do a quick once-over of Adam. A small cut stood out just above his left eye and he seemed to be suffering from a lack of sleep, but otherwise looked to be in decent shape.   
  
Adam guessed what Jay was thinking and immediately began walking to the car. "I'm fine," he answered the unasked question presented by Jay's knitted brow. "Tired, though."   
  
"I can tell."   
  
Once they were on the road, Adam seemed to be content to act as if nothing at all had happened and play with the radio dials instead. Irritated when all he could find were oldie and pop stations, he pushed a CD through the slot it was already halfway in and smirked at Jay's lifted eyebrows as the first few notes of a KMFDM CD began playing.   
  
"You don't strike me as much of a fan of theirs," Jay noted after a brief moment of stunned silence. Adam shrugged.   
  
"There're a lot of things about me you'd never guess."   
  
"Okay, let's not start getting cryptic."   
  
Adam gave a wicked grin and turned the volume up. "Jay, I . . . I'm really sorry about last night."   
  
"What are you apologizing for? You didn't do anything."   
  
The red stoplight became an object of great fascination to Adam, making him stare at it intensely while he sought for an good response. "I didn't want you to see all that."   
  
"Is it always like that?"   
  
Adam didn't answer at first, taking the next couple corners wordlessly. "Not always. Some nights are worse than others. That one, uh, fell into the 'worse than others' category."   
  
"I'd hope so." Jay turned his attention to outside the window, watching the people along the sidewalk as they passed. "I don't know how you put up with that crap."   
  
"I'm just cool that way."   
  
"I'm not joking," Jay shot back, growing angrier every second that passed when he remembered holding Adam and trying to convince him that life wasn't really as bad as it must seem.   
  
Wisely deciding it was best to let the conversation die, Adam pulled into the parking lot of a small Mexican restaurant, much to Jay's chagrin.   
  
"What? You don't like Mexican food?"   
  
"I didn't survive through eleven years of school cafeteria food to die of food poisoning."   
  
Adam chuckled, turning the car off and stepping out into the lot. "This place is great. You'll like it, trust me."   
  
Jay was nothing if not skeptical, as evidenced by his pursed lips. "I try to make it a point never to eat anything I can't identify."   
  
"Stop bitching and pick a table," Adam laughed, making a wide arc-like gesture meant to indicate the picnic tables set up alongside the building. Jay cursed his luck; of course Adam would take advantage of the unseasonably warm weather and want to stay in public, thus practically guaranteeing Jay wouldn't have a chance to interrogate him about just what had happened last night.   
  
Nevertheless, he picked a table without complaint and waited, albeit anxiously, for Adam and lunch to show up.   
  
Almost an hour later, he was pushing a piece of lettuce around his tray with a plastic fork, wishing fervently he hadn't agreed to take the restaurant up on its free second helping policy on garden salads. The waitress had been cute, though, and he gave in, something Adam was taking great pleasure in teasing him about.   
  
"Oh, God," he moaned, letting his head drop forward and hit the table. "I think I'm dying."   
  
"Poor thing. You'll live," Adam encouraged mockingly, prying the lid off the cup his drink had come in so he could get to the ice and munch on it. "But hey, at least you'll die on a full stomach."   
  
"Maybe. I just hope someone doesn't decide to do an autopsy on the body or they're gonna get a surprise."   
  
"You didn't even eat that much. Stop complaining."   
  
Jay raised his head enough to get his chin level with the edge of the table, glaring balefully at the boy across from him. Plastic trays and bowls were piled everywhere, most having come from the other side of the table. Adam had been the proverbial train wreck that was fascinating unwittingly. If Jay hadn't been too busy trying to keep track of how many burritos Adam was inhaling he might have been disgusted to the point of not being able to finish his own meal.   
  
"So says the guy with the cast iron stomach."   
  
Adam grinned impishly, crunching noisily on a piece of ice. "Food and I have a very intimate relationship, or at least that's how I like to look at it."   
  
"No, *you* like to eating enough to make a sumo wrestler intimidated." Jay paused, arching an eyebrow. "Not that you could tell it, skinny as you are."   
  
"Whatever. You're just jealous."   
  
"Of what? That I can't eat my weight in rice?"   
  
"That, among other things."   
  
Jay rolled his eyes and let his head drop back down onto the table to the sound of Adam's laughter.   
  
Casting a quick look to his car, Adam fished his keys from his pocket and swung them around his index finger. "Jay?"   
  
"What?"   
  
"You ever driven a Jag before?"   
  
Jay slowly raised his head back up, eyes wide, if confused. "You're shittin' me." Adam only gave a wry little grin and pointed his finger at Jay, letting the keys dangle from it. With a strangled yelp, Jay jumped up from his seat on the bench and grabbed the keys, throwing his garbage into the trash can on his way to the parking lot.   
  
"Hey!" Adam called, digging through his wallet in search of something he thought would make a suitable tip. "You're supposed to be sick, remember?"   
  
"It's a miracle!" Jay called back, running loving hands over the car's smooth surface. Adam caught up with him a few seconds later, happy to see Jay was happy but obviously having second thoughts. "Don't worry. I have my license."   
  
"It's not that. It's just . . ." Adam shook his head and got in the car. "Never mind."   
  
"Just what?"   
  
"Look, you can total the car for all I care, just, please, I'd like to live to see my eighteenth birthday."   
  
Jay let a hand fly to his heart. "What, you think I'm a bad driver?"   
  
Adam remained quiet and buckled his seatbelt. Had he been of the religious variety, he might have said a prayer to go along with it all, too. All rational thoughts were lost as soon as Jay was out on the road. The entire situation was rather surreal, with Jay practically flying above the ground and Adam gripping the dashboard for dear life, all to the tune of industrial rock playing from the car's expensive speaker system. That was while they were still in town. Adam groaned and almost wet himself when he saw Jay was heading for the highway where he would undoubtedly go as fast as he thought he could before the force of gravity made their heads implode.   
  
"Hey, there's no use in havin' a fast car if you don't go fast," Jay reasoned when he saw Adam's frightened expression. "Don't tell me you've never floored this thing."   
  
"I . . . actually, no, I haven't."   
  
Jay shook his head in disbelief, going a little faster just out of spite. "You're missing out!"   
  
Adam closed his eyes and began to mentally plot out his will. His video games would go to his cousin Josh. The CDs would go to his cousin Liz.   
  
"Make sure the coroners see I'm an organ donor," he announced suddenly through gritted teeth. Jay laughed and took a curve hard enough to send Adam sprawling over the armrest between them. "Have I ever mentioned I get car sick?"   
  
"Then you'd better find a barf bag."   
  
"You insensitive bastard. I hate you."   
  
Aside from the CD in the stereo system and Adam's frequent weak groans, the rest of the ride was made in silence. After joy riding for well over an hour, Jay finally drove atop a steep hill and parked the car, drumming the wheel excitedly.   
  
"Wow. We gotta do that again."   
  
Adam pried one eye open, then the other. "Give. Me. The. Keys."   
  
"You liked it, admit it," Jay grinned, handing over the keys anyway. Adam stuffed them into his pocket with a shaking hand, the other already reaching for the door handle. "Besides, you're the one who was talking about eating a bullet last night, remember?"   
  
"It doesn't count," Adam started, "if it's at someone else's hand."   
  
Despite wanting to continue the discussion, Jay shrugged and walked to the edge of the hill. It had been a favorite spot of his since he was a small child, a spot relatively private that overlooked the city and provided a breaktaking view of the sunset in the summer. He couldn't really be sure what had possessed him to go there now, but Adam seemed happy just to still be in one piece, so maybe it was all for the best.   
  
Jay slid to the ground, resting his back against a large pine tree and thanking whatever deity was watching over him that he didn't sit on a pine cone. Adam made his unsteady way over to join him, deliriously happy to be seated. The ground was cold, hard, and not really comfortable at all, but Adam was delighted for the simple fact it wasn't moving.   
  
"I get the impression you don't like my driving."   
  
Adam grunted an unintelligible reply and let his head fall back against the tree.   
  
The two sat in companionable silence a few minutes longer, broken only when Jay sighed contentedly and drew his knees to his chest. "Nice view, huh?"   
  
"Yeah," Adam agreed without protest, having to admit that for all Jay's reckless driving, the means might very well have justified the means to get this incredible view. Not that he'd admit it, of course.   
  
"Did he hurt you?"   
  
Adam blinked, not comprehending the question at first. "Huh?"   
  
"Your father. Did he hurt you last night?" Adam shook his head, though he stopped when he noticed Jay glaring at him. "I heard you yell before I left. What was that all about?"   
  
"Nothing." While Jay knew it was much more than 'nothing', the perfunctuary tone in his friend's voice kept him from commenting on it further. He couldn't really do any commenting at all, in fact, thanks to Adam pressing his mouth against Jay's, beginning a soft and timid kiss just to see how his friend would react. He pulled back after a moment, searching Jay's face for the slightest hint of what he felt or maybe just to know when to move away so he didn't get punched.   
  
Adam darted the tip of his tongue out, licking his lips nervously from habit. Jay was really providing no clues about what was going through his head. His eyes were wide and his mouth was still open, but Adam had grown so used to Jay's gawky surprised look he didn't find it strange in the least now.   
  
"I like you," Adam murmured quietly, running a finger along Jay's cheek and making him jump. "I mean, I know you're prob'ly about as straight as Jesus, but I . . . I can't help it."   
  
Jay gulped. "Er, uh . . . well, everything can be bent a little, y'know." He paused, brow narrowing. Had he really just said that? Why hadn't that been cleared with his brain before his mouth blurted it out? Nevertheless, it was Adam's turn to look surprised.   
  
"Can it?"   
  
Might as well bite the bullet now, Jay reasoned with an inward sigh. "I-I guess so, yeah. But," he amended quickly once he saw Adam's satisfied grin, "this might not be such a good idea."   
  
"Mmm?"  
  
Jay whimpered softly, losing his confidence and all other rational thought as he felt a pair of warm lips trailing down his throat and fingers moving up under his shirt. Adam wasted no time, apparently wanting to seize the moment before Jay could come to his senses and change his mind. Jay, for the most part, couldn't say he was entirely angry about the opportunist actions.   
  
"W-Well, your da...father doesn't really seem like the most tolerant person around. He could disown you or something if he finds out we're doing . . . uh, this."   
  
Adam looked up from where he was trying with little success to unbuckle Jay's belt. "Nothing's worth loving if you aren't willing to make sacrifices for it."   
  
Jay arched an eyebrow; every sarcastic response that sprang to mind was vanished as quickly as they came with the new sensation of his shirt being pulled up over his head. He couldn't be altogether certain what shocked him more, the cool air that hit his bare chest or the fact he hadn't resisted the disrobing at all. That was something he'd have to dwell upon later. For the moment it was all he could do to close his eyes and lean back against the tree, shivering from Adam's curious fingers rather than from the gentle breeze blowing.   
  
It was almost laughably ironic to him that, with another man's mouth against his collarbone and moving steadily downward, he should be finding himself thinking prominently of his ex-girlfriend. His sweet Elizabeth -- Lizzy, as he'd affectionately taken to calling her against her will -- had never said she loved him. Not when he spent an entire month's paycheck to treat her on her eighteenth birthday. Not when he'd dressed in black tights and a white poet shirt he prayed never to see again and recite scenes from Romeo and Juliet beneath her window when she caught the flu last winter. Not when they'd made love and spent the night in each other's arms with him whispering in her ear over and over again that he loved her. And yet, here was this person he'd known for not even two weeks who was already professing his endearment to him.   
  
There was something wrong with this entire picture.   
  
Jay gasped sharply, feeling a pair of hands making identical treks up his thighs and stopping to grasp his hips. No, Lizzy had never done anything to cause him to make that little mewling noise that seemed to serve only to drive Adam insane. There was definitely something wrong with this picture, but Jay would be damned if he could figure out what it was. 


	8. Eight

Ah, okay, so it's been a while. Sorry 'bout that, folks. Anyway, thanks as always for the reviews. You guys so *totally* rule all! Heh. Just a little note of warning: there's quite a bit of stuff in here that could squick the easily squicked, so keep that in mind, please. Other than that, I hope ya like it! :)  
  
******  
  
After being single for so long, it was nice to wake up to the sound of someone snoring quietly in his ear. The only problem with that was that it very nearly made Jay's young heart call it quits.   
  
Slowly looking back over his right shoulder as if expecting it to be a mirage that would vanish if looked at too quickly, Jay noticed with no small amount of embarrassment that Adam had a serious case of bed hair. Or car hair, as the case was.   
  
Jay yawned and carefully untangled Adam's arms from around his waist, blinking to clear the sleep from his eyes and get a better look at his surroundings. At some point he couldn't begin to identify they had moved from the ground to the backseat of the Jaguar, the tell-tale signs being the trail of clothing leading from the tree to the left side of the car. Jay laughed despite himself at the almost surreal scene just outside the window, at the shoes and socks and discarded tops moving in a relatively straight line towards the door he had just been leaning against. The sun was already well above the horizon, but he was hardpressed to find the time when he didn't have the slightest idea where his watch had ended up in the flurry of flying clothing hours earlier.   
  
Another yawn escaped him as he tried to stretch his legs and arms, having been folded up in an unnatural position for however long it might have been. All he managed to accomplish was accidentally hitting Adam in the head. The movement made Adam grunt in his sleep, which in turn made Jay break up into laughter, and which in turn made Adam's eyelids flutter open.   
  
"You suck," Adam grumbled, groggy as he was. Jay grinned wickedly, seeing the chance to make his joke and not willing to pass it up.   
  
"Yes. And very well, or so you'd lead me to believe."   
  
Adam raised his eyebrows, caught off guard by the remark, and burst into uncontrollable laughter. Jay sighed and crawled into the front passenger's seat to find the keys and turn the car on so he could find out what time it was.   
  
"Great. I'm making cheesy gay jokes. All we need now is to dress up and go see Rocky Horror Picture Show or something."   
  
Adam leaned over the seat, linking his arms around Jay's neck. "I'm just a sweet transvestite . . ." Jay glared at him, making him sink his face into the mass of unruly blond hair gathered at Jay's shoulder. "I dunno. I always figured if I was gonna do the cliche thing, I was gonna dress as Boy George and start singing 'It's Raining Men'."   
  
"Boy George didn't sing that."   
  
Adam huffed but otherwise remained quiet on the issue, though he couldn't suppress a small grin at hearing Jay humming 'Karma Chameleon' while digging the keys from the glove compartment. The familiar sound of the car humming to life was indication enough that Jay had found the keys. That, or he'd given up and decided to hotwire the thing, but one assumption was better than the other.   
  
Though it was a casual glance he turned to the radio's clock, Adam's eyes widened and he almost choked Jay, reminded of what was between his arms when Jay croaked meekly. "Shit!"   
  
"That's my neck!" Jay squeaked, prying Adam's arms from around his throat and taking a deep breath. "Jesus Christ, man. Why aren't *you* the one that's wrestling here?"   
  
"Shut up. I gotta get home."   
  
"What's wrong, Cinderella? Lose a slipper back there or somethin'?"   
  
"I'm not joking," Adam snapped irritably, falling gracelessly into the front seat and darting out to the field, gathering the clothes in a series of short, swift movements, and running back to the car. "I'm gonna be in so much trouble it's not even funny."   
  
Jay watched with well-hidden amusement as Adam struggled against his anxiety to slip a shirt over his head. "I beg to differ, actually, 'cause I think it's funny as hell."   
  
All he received for his efforts was a heated glare and a rude single-fingered gesture.   
  
"Hey, it's not that bad, okay?"   
  
"You don't know what you're talking about."   
  
Jay huffed, trying his best to get into his jeans with some dignity in the cramped conditions. "Sure I do. You like to nail an' bail, apparently."   
  
Adam looked up from tying his shoes, eyes narrowed into angry green slits. "That's not it at all. It's just . . ."   
  
"Just what, Adam? You gotta get home so Daddy can beat the crap out of you for living your life?" Jay demanded, temper flaring. Adam flinched and he went on. "This is bullshit, man. When're you gonna wake up and realize you can't stay there?"   
  
Adam turned his head, putting the car in reverse and backing up fast enough to slam Jay back against his seat. "I already told you that -- when they put me underground."   
  
"Aw, jeez," Jay groaned, putting a frustrated hand to his head and idly threading his fingers through his hair. "You've gotta have some money stashed away or something. Why don't you just take it and rent an apartment somewhere? Or -- if you're desperate, you can live with me an' spend your weekends watching Mad About You reruns with me an' my cat."   
  
"Because it's not that damned simple! Haven't you gotten that through your head yet?"   
  
"Why isn't it? Have you tried it?"   
  
"I'm not dumb enough to try it," Adam admitted, calming just slightly as they pulled out onto the highway. "You don't know my father, Jay. You don't know how many people he knows and just how powerful he is. He says jump, there's twenty people right there asking how high. I'd be stupid to do something to really piss him off. At least I'm smart enough to know that much."   
  
"Like a dog."   
  
"What?"   
  
Jay folded his arms stubbornly over his chest. "I said you're just like a goddamned dog, beaten and kicked to where you're so fucking scared of him you'll do whatever he wants you to. It's pathetic."   
  
"You'd do the same thing in my place." Adam stopped at a red light, taking the chance to turn his shirt around, since he'd put it on backwards in his haste minutes earlier. "You swear too much."   
  
"Only if I have good reasons. And you, you freaking lovable dumbass, are validating most of 'em."   
  
Adam sighed but otherwise kept quiet the remainder of the ride. Once outside his apartment, Jay stepped out on the sidewalk but then leaned in the open window, body silhouetted from the glaring sun behind him. "Look. If you get in too much trouble, you're welcome to come back here. You know that, right?"   
  
Adam nodded wordlessly and shooed Jay away with his right hand. "Yeah, yeah."   
  
"Don't 'yeah yeah' me," Jay scolded with a frown. "I'll smack those five hundred teeth outta your mouth."   
  
"Hey, look! Something's on fire in your apartment!" Adam exclaimed, pointing over Jay's shoulder in attempts to get him to move away from the car.  
  
"Uh huh. It's prob'ly just cold and Ash set a trash can on fire. It's called the poor man's heating system." He grinned suddenly. "You should come around in the summer. Getting the air conditioner to work involves an ancient tribal dance, steel toe boots, rubber gloves, and sacrificing virgins on an alter."   
  
". . . sounds nice."   
  
"Doesn't it, though? Me an' the stoner guy who lives next door usually just draw a pentagram in the floor and sacrifice sheep, with the considerable lack of virgins in the apartment. We roast marshmallows and pray to the a/c gods and all that good crap. You should join us sometime, it's fun."   
  
"You've got too much time on your hands."   
  
"I do," Jay mocked a sob, letting his head hit the top of the doorframe. "Oh, God, I need a life."   
  
Adam let out a muffled laugh and put the car into reverse, trying to indicate he really was in a hurry. Jay finally took the hint and realized no amount of joking could keep the boy there, so he stepped back inside the apartment building's doorway, waved, and turned around to be hit by the door as it swung outward.   
  
Adam drove away before he could taint his ears with the scorching language Jay was undoubtedly using.   
  
Nearly thirty minutes later, Adam pulled into the garage and took a deep, calming breath before entering through the side door into the kitchen. He squinted at first, surprised by the unusually bright light flooding the room. A quick glance around showed that the heavy draperies normally pulled over the windows were gone, allowing the sunlight to shine inside and cast dazzling reflections off anything silver.   
It added an almost homey touch to an otherwise cold house that was far from being warm and affectionate.   
  
Peering into the main room, Adam was caught off guard in that Sophie and Mike both were seated on the couch watching the television, though neither seemed particularly interested in the program.   
  
"So that's what you guys get paid for, huh?" Adam teased with a halfhearted grin, making Sophie jump. She turned a sheepish face toward the teen and gestured to the tv.   
  
"Even the help gets tired from time to time . . . slavedriver."   
  
"Lazy."   
  
Sophie shrugged and tucked a pillow under her chin. "Uh huh. You should come watch it with us. It's the episode where Mr. Burns gets shot."   
  
"I'll, uh, haveta pass, sorry."   
  
"Your loss."   
  
Adam chuckled quietly, though he immediately let the smile fade once his question came to mind again. "Where's ... he at?"   
  
"I'm assuming you mean your father and not the gardner?" Mike asked, not looking away from the television.   
  
"Do humanity a favor and don't ever think your observant nature is your strong point."   
  
Mike blinked. "That hurt, kid. Do us all a favor and don't throw it back at us that a seventeen-year-old brat's smarter than a grown adult. Anyway, he went upstairs about ten, fifteen minutes ago. Never has come back down, though."   
  
"Great," Adam groaned, rubbing his hand across his forehead. "Probably filling out my death certificate or something."   
  
"We'll get the gardner to send flowers."   
  
"Bastard," Adam grumbled on his way up the steps. He hesitated outside his door, hearing the familiar sound of shoes slapping against the hardwood floor. That was never a good sign. But, he realized, it was face it now or let David have time to let his anger boil more.   
  
He pushed the door open with a slightly trembling hand.   
  
David sat on Adam's bed, a picture frame in his left hand and his right supporting his chin. He barely looked up from the photo to see an understandably confused Adam in the doorway. "I'm almost glad your mother's not still around to see this."   
  
Adam tossed his jacket across the desk chair and looked down at the picture while doing so, growing angrier than ever when he realized it was the small photo he kept atop his dresser. It had been taken just after he'd started school as a small child, a candid shot of he and his mother eating ice cream cones and succeeding only in getting it all over themselves. He snatched the picture away and glared down at his father.   
  
"I've asked you not to come into my room and I've *told* you not to go through my stuff," he noted, trying his best to keep his anger in check and failing miserably. He slammed the picture back down on his dresser, then leaned against it and folded his arms over his chest. "So I'm assuming you're in here for a reason, not just to share fond memories."   
  
David turned and regarded Adam with an unsettling calm. "Kim would have been humiliated to find out her little boy liked other boys." He shrugged carelessly, leaning back against the bed's headboard. "When you were a baby she used to talk about seeing you grow up and get married and have children. You would have broken her heart, sleeping around with another man."   
  
"It's none of your business what I do with my life," Adam snapped, a thin line creasing his brow. "Even if it was, and if you really do care, I never slept with anyone -- not even a guy -- before last night. I don't just throw myself at anyone, despite whatever it is you believe." He paused suddenly, eyes glinting maliciously. "Maybe you'd like me to start building my own little harem like you did? Fuck a different woman every night until I knock one up and have to marry her to save face. Is that what you want?"   
  
David scowled and rose to his feet. "I've told you not to talk about that."   
  
"And I've told you to stay out of my room. People in Hell want Sno-Cones. I don't see any of us getting what we want anytime soon," Adam shot back venomously. He took a step closer, coming face to face with his father and taking a small bit of glee in how David flinched. "So what is it that finally drove Mom over the edge? Just having to live with you? Knowing you were screwing some cheap whore while she was pregnant?"   
  
"Your mother's death was an accident, Adam."   
  
"Oh, sure it was. It's just all coincidence there was half a bottle of Valium and a bottle of Jack Daniels in her blood when they pulled her out of the pool, isn't it?"   
  
"She was depressed but she wasn't suicidal."   
  
"Maybe not until she had to deal with you beating her up every time you needed a punching bag."   
  
"You don't even know what you're talking about," David forced through gritted teeth, eyes narrowing simultaneously. "You're just a scared little boy babbling about things you don't understand."   
  
"Like father, like son," Adam commented with a shrug. He turned to head back out the door, though to where he really didn't know, then stopped and faced his father again. "Not that I'm one to rub it in, but maybe you shouldn't knock *my* lifestyle. Maybe if you'd have tried it, you wouldn't have gotten Mom pregnant, I never would have happened, and we wouldn't be having this conversation right now."   
  
David snorted, shaking his head in amusement but never once taking his eyes from his son. "You think you've got it all figured out, don't you? How long is it going to take you to realize," he continued, pushing Adam back against the wall and bringing a leather strap to eye level that Adam recognized as his belt, "that you don't really know anything at all?"   
  
And, too late, it was at that point Adam found he had finally pushed too many buttons.   
  
He barely had time to yelp before he was wheeled around and pushed onto the bed, forced onto his stomach by the heavy weight resting on his back. His eyes squeezed shut a mere second before the first blow from behind tore a burning gouge through his shirt and into the skin of his back. The belt came down with increasing speed and force, the leather softening the impact of the harsh metal buckle digging crude ruts in the flesh. Adam bit down hard on his knuckles, willing himself not to scream, not to cry, not to do anything that would hint his father had half the control over him he sought.   
  
It was only when he noticed the thin trails of blood leaking from his hand that he chose to fight back for the first -- and possibly last -- time.   
  
He opened his eyes to look around for anything that could be used in his defense, line of vision eventually coming to rest on the baseball bat against the headboard that had been collecting dust ever since quitting the school team three years earlier. Unshed tears blurred his sight to the point it took two tries to finally grab the bat. Without so much as a thought he turned onto his side just enough to throw the bat over his shoulder with as much strength as he could manage with his shoulders all but pinned to the mattress. The wood connected with a thud that made him shudder, and he rolled onto his back when the weight fell away.   
  
Adam stared in disbelief at the prone form on the ground, both relieved and disappointed to see David's chest rising and falling unevenly but moving nonetheless. With him being unconscious, it would be frighteningly easy to just snuff the life out of him, and Adam couldn't be too certain it would be such a blight on his conscience.   
  
But then, he noted, dropping the bat from numb fingers and letting it hit the floor and roll under the bed, once David awoke to find Adam was still alive, he would be more furious than ever and stop at nothing to destroy everything he used as his personal ways to rebel. Adam took an uneasy step backwards, colliding with the desk but paying no attention to it. Jay would be the first target and what his father would more than likely take great joy in tearing apart.   
  
All the muddled thoughts became that much more jumbled when the door flew open to reveal a panicked Sophie. She took a quick look at the floor, then up at Adam's equally as frantic eyes. "What happened?"   
  
"I-I'm sorry," Adam whispered softly, taking another step backwards before turning on his heel and walking quickly towards the bathroom adjoined to his bedroom.   
  
"Hey! What are you doing? Adam?" She hurried to the bathroom but was unable to get there before the door was slammed shut and locked. Trying the handle was pointless, she knew, but still it couldn't stop her from repeatedly jiggling the doorknob and pounding on the door. "Adam, open the door, honey. I just wanna talk. Adam, please? Open the door." Another knock, another few seconds of silence. "Dammit, Adam, open the door!"   
  
Sophie huffed and dropped to her hands and knees, struggling to look underneath the door. She saw Adam sitting with his back against the door, slumped over slightly in his place. Try as she might to get him to turn around, her frustration increased every second that went by when he didn't respond. She pushed her fingers underneath the door, poking his arm to get his attention but surprised when instead of skin she met with something warm and wet.   
  
She pulled back to see his blood staining her hand. 


	9. Nine

Notes: As always, kids, thanks for reviewing! It means bunches! :) Also wanted to throw in a note that I went on something of a splurge this afternoon and bought both the "Before They Were Superstars" video and the new Forceable Entry CD. I recommend both. Besides seeing a little kid freak out to see E&C walking down his school halls *g*, there are also a few really awesome tracks on the CD. *cough*RVD*cough* End of blatant plug. But what I'm trying to get to is that I've been thinking about getting the new Rob Zombie CD, partly because Edge's theme has made me fall in love with that song, and partly because Rob isn't doing his whole "ooh, look at me, I'm all dead and gothic!" shtick anymore and I'm hoping he's going back to some of his roots. Anyone who's bought the CD, is it worth the money?   
  
Oh yeah. Story. Right. Here ya go.   
  
******  
  
Hospital coffee was, in the end, all that kept Jay from screaming.   
  
He hadn't intended to spend one of his rare days off in the waiting room of Our Lady Fatima Hospital. He had, however, made detailed plans to sleep most of the day and maybe do some sorely-needed grocery shopping. His plans were shredded by a call from a hysteric Sophie telling him that Adam was being taken to the hospital and that he should come as well.   
  
So far, the past two hours had been spent making trips from his seat to the coffee pot across the room. The last time he had been in a hospital was when he broke his arm when he was eight, and that had been enough of an unpleasant experience to make him never want to set foot in a hospital ever again.   
  
He'd tried pacing, reading the outdated magazines on a nearby table, even counting the beige tiles on the floor; so far, nothing had managed to hold his attention for more than a few distracted minutes. It hadn't yet fully registered exactly why he was there, though he vaguely recalled Sophie's tear-choked tale of getting Mike to force the door open and finding Adam lying in a steadily thickening pool of his own blood, unconscious and taking short, shallow breaths.   
  
Jay admitted to himself that he'd really rather not know the details about the situation.   
  
A sudden sharp clutching of his arm made him jump in his seat. Sophie's grip only loosened slightly once she gained his attention. Jay stifled a yelp at feeling her nails digging into his flesh and tried to make sense of what it was the doctor was trying to say. Between his sleeplessness and worry, the words all seemed to blur together and confuse him that much more. All he gathered was something about a lot of blood being lost, stable, and recommendations for psychiatric care. Jay's mind reeled as he tried to take the information in.   
  
"--but I'd like for him to get some rest, so please keep the visit short as possible."   
  
Jay blinked at the doctor, then turned his blank expression to Sophie. "Huh?"   
  
"Go see him, honey. He needs a friendly face right now." She nudged him and pointed down the hallway, to which Jay nodded and began walking down with heavy feet. When he reached the designated room, he pushed the door open and peered cautiously inside as if expecting something to jump out and grab him. All he received for his paranoid thoughts was the sound of a monitor beeping a slight irregular rhythm.   
  
At that moment, he wanted to be anywhere else on Earth than in that room, just steps away from the bed atop which his friend -- and quite possibly more, which brought more confusion to him than he cared to admit -- lay motionless and pale.   
  
He gulped and forced himself to keep walking, one foot in front of the other until he was able to sink down into a bedside chair. Despite himself he looked down to the arm lying closest to him and almost broke down in tears when the reality of the events hit him across the face. Adam's left arm was wrapped in gauze and thick white bandages from his wrist up to just past his elbow, and the faintest traces of blood were still visible soaking through the bottom layer. Jay reached out and traced his fingers along the arm, shaking his head in something that was a mix between disgust and amazement.   
  
As if by some secret intuition he looked up just as Adam's eyelids fluttered open. His lips, paled as much of the rest of him and nearly impossible to tell from the rest of his ashen face, opened as if to speak but closed again when no sound came out. That was just fine with Jay; he had some things he wanted to say while Adam couldn't argue with him anyway.  
  
"You selfish, conceited son of a bitch," he started, wiping the back of an annoyed hand across his eyes. His lecture would be much less meaningful while crying like a baby. "Did you really think this was the only way to get out? Didn't you ever stop to think, even for a minute, that there were people who cared about you?" Adam closed his eyes again but Jay knew better than to believe he was simply ignoring him. He sighed and leaned forward to press a kiss to Adam's forehead. "Fine. Go back to sleep, you bastard. But don't think I'm letting you off this easy. You're gonna be doing some serious explaining later."   
  
Jay, true to his word, was the first thing Adam saw when he opened his eyes again. The second was the officer standing on his right with a disapproving look. Jay, needless to say, was the one he chose to keep his eyes on.   
  
"Hey," Jay greeted quietly with a shaky smile, obviously having gotten some sleep to take the harsh edge out of his voice that had been there hours earlier. Adam tried to return the greeting but was too distracted by the sudden realization there was something making his arm feel like it weighed ten pounds. He picked it up a couple inches off the mattress, stared at it, then dropped it carelessly back down and went back to staring up at the ceiling.   
  
"It didn't work."   
  
Jay pulled his chair closer to the bed and leaned his elbows on the metal guardrail. "No, it didn't, which is pretty good 'cause I haven't been paid yet and I can't afford flowers for the funeral." He forced a tight grin, reaching over to pull a stray piece of hair from Adam's face, stunning both of them with the innocent but touching gesture. "Uh . . . yeah. So anyway. How d'ya feel?"   
  
Adam didn't answer right away, just thought the question over carefully. "Useless."   
  
"Besides that."   
  
"Dumb. Unwillfully alive. Pissed off. Get me a thesaurus and I can keep going."   
  
Jay sighed and leaned back in his seat. "Just so you know, you've upset a lot of people who actually care about you." He paused to look down with feigned interest at the frayed knees of his jeans. "Myself included."   
  
"Do you have any idea what it's like not being able to do anything right? I even managed to fuck things up with a brand new razor."   
  
"Do you know what it's like sitting out in a waiting room for two and a half solid hours because you don't know if the guy you just slept with is going to live through the night or not?" Jay asked angrily, pushing a hand through his hair and huffing. "Jesus Christ, man, I'm sorry if I was so bad you had to try to kill yourself. I'll buy a book and get better, promise."   
  
"Is this some kind of big joke to you?"  
  
"No. I'm telling jokes to keep my sanity . . . and to keep from killing you myself," he added after a moment to think. "Now. I think you owe me at least some kind of reasoning for all this." He noticed Adam's eyes travel towards the officer and he nodded. "Alright. I'll tell the rent-a-cop to get lost if you'll talk. Deal?" Adam shrugged indifferently; Jay optomistically took that as a good sign. He looked up and cleared his throat to get the officer to look at him. "Uh, can you, like, leave for a few minutes? Please?"   
  
"I have orders to stay here, sir."   
  
"From who?"   
  
"I'm not allowed to say."   
  
Adam cursed under his breath. "You're in my room, so either you think I'm gonna dive out the window or kill someone else, now I think it's only fair to tell me who gave you the permission to invade my goddamned personal space. I'm a psycho, you idiot! Crazy, see?" He asked, waving his right hand around wildly. "So, Officer--" he grabbed the officer's wrist and pulled him closer, then pulled him down by his shirt, squinting, "--Watts, you wanna tell me why you're here and who rented you?"   
  
Jay ducked his head, though some bizarre interest kept him watching as the officer's face flushed a dark red color from either embarrassment or anger. Jay didn't particularly want to know which it was. Adam was evidently showing off what a brat he could be, but it seemed to be working since the officer took a step backwards and smoothed his shirt down indignantly.   
  
"Mr. David Copeland. He's filing charges and asked me to stay here so you don't leave."   
  
"I've got an IV hooked in my arm and fifteen pounds of bandages on the other. Exactly what in the hell kind of threat do I pose?"   
  
Jay, however, was more concerned with the former part of the response and held up his hand, palm-first. "Hey, wait a minute -- charges?"   
  
Officer Watts nodded solemnly. "Aggravated assault."   
  
Jay's mouth dropped open, but Adam only gave an insane little grin and looked back to the ceiling. "I was hoping it'd at least be attempted murder or something. Maybe malicious wounding. Did he mention anything about a deadly weapon at any point?"   
  
The officer shook his head, then pulled the door open. "No. And if he by chance happens to ask, you were unconscious when I left."   
  
"No problem, Andy. Tell Aunt B I said hi if you see her in the hallway."   
  
"Dude, this isn't *even* funny!" Jay scolded once the door swung shut. Adam laughed in reply. "What -- Adam, you're insane. What's wrong with you?"   
  
"I'm insane. You just told me."   
  
"I am so damn close to just choking the life right out of you," Jay threatened, hands already forming a rounded shape and nearing Adam's throat.  
  
Adam looked up, locking eyes intensely with Jay's. "Do it."   
  
The force behind his demand stopped Jay in his tracks. He sat back down in his seat and dropped his elbows again onto the metal railing. "So. Talk." He held a hand up to stop Adam's protesting groan. "Don't start that 'I'm keeping it all inside' bullshit. I got rid of Dudley Do-Right over there, the least you can do is tell me why you're here."   
  
Adam sighed softly, trying to push himself up into a sitting position but crying out sharply at the searing pain that shot through his bandaged arm. He fell back onto the bed and blinked the tears from his eyes while Jay wrapped an arm about his shoulders and helped him make another attempt at sitting up, this time with more success. "Fine. He was mad, as you can imagine, when I got home. We got in a fight in my room and things just went downhill from there. H-He started hitting me and I was . . . I don't know. I saw my old baseball bat and I lost it. I grabbed it and hit him as hard as I could." He stopped abruptly to scratch at his ear. "I was standing over him and . . . and I honestly don't know what stopped me from just bashing his head in. I wanted to."   
  
"I can't fault you for that one."   
  
If he'd heard the comment, Adam ignored it and went on. "I saw him breathing and I knew he was still alive, and much as part of me wanted to kill him, I-I couldn't. And I knew if I let him live he'd just keep going after everything and everyone important to me until there just wasn't anything left. I knew he'd take it out on you and I didn't. . . didn't wanna see that. Didn't wanna put you through that."   
  
Jay's eyes widened. "So, pretty much, you slit your wrist over me?"   
  
"Pretty much," Adam agreed with a faint shrug. "I never meant to drag you into this."   
  
"Well, Romeo, that's romantic in a sick sort of way, I guess."   
  
Adam glanced down at his arm and sneered. "If I was trying to be romantic, I woulda used a bigger blade."   
  
"That's not funny."   
  
"It wasn't supposed to be."   
  
Before anything else could be said on the matter, the door came open to admit a flustered Officer Watts and David right behind him, a thick bandage on the right side of his head. Jay jumped up so suddenly his chair overturned.   
  
"What are you doing here? Get out! Get him out!" He ordered to the officer, jutting a finger toward the door. "It's his fault this entire mess started! Get him out!"   
  
David never so much as glanced at Jay, just looked over to his son and absently put a hand to the bandage on his head. "I hope you've had time to think about what you've done."   
  
"You've got a lot of fucking nerve, you asshole!" Jay cried, anger flaring instead of simmering with time. Adam made a thwarted attempt to yank him back down into his chair -- still on the floor -- and closed his eyes against the verbal assault that was giving him a headache. "I wish he *would've* killed you! It would've been a public service!"   
  
David waved Jay away with a careless hand and came to stand beside Adam, watching him with narrowed eyes. "I'm dropping charges, just so you know. I thought you might have learned a lesson about consequences so I really saw no point in going through with it." He paused to glance up thoughtfully at Jay. "I had a talk with your doctor and, even though it took quite a bit of pursuasion, I talked him into releasing you. You'll be sore for a while but he assured me that will ease. He also gave me the names and numbers of some of Toronto's finest psychiatrists. And you know me, Adam -- nothing but the best for my boy."   
  
Jay balled his left hand into a fist and reached over with his right hand to pull the back of Adam's hospital gown open. "Look at this! Look!" He demanded of Officer Watts, fuming. "This is what pushed him into it! This is what this sick bastard does for a hobby! And you're just gonna let this happen?"   
  
Adam swore and squeezed his eyes shut, praying the officer wouldn't ask him the inevitable questions he didn't want to answer.   
  
"Is that true, son? Did he do this to you?" The officer asked, the appalled note in his voice evident. Adam locked eyes with Jay and made a small despairing noise before responding.   
  
"No."   
  
"You moron, don't take up for him!" Jay ordered harshly. "You don't owe him anything!"   
  
"I get into bad fights at school," Adam went on even while he could see from Jay's eyes he was breaking his heart with every word. "That's all."   
  
"Adam . . ." Jay pleaded quietly. "Don't give in like this. He'll kill you if you go back."   
  
Adam turned his head slowly to see Jay staring at him with begging eyes. He started to reach out to touch his face, then stopped and instead went back to looking at his bandaged arm. When he gave his next whispered remark, Jay had to lean forward to hear it but wished he hadn't. "Just like I said, I know my place."   
  
Jay turned on his heel and stalked out of the room without another word. 


	10. Ten -- Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa.....

"Reso! Heads up!"   
  
Too late. Jay yelped as he just barely managed to protect his face from a metal chair swinging toward him. Dazed and with aching hands, he fell to the mat and watched the gym rafters overhead spin around while his leg was lifted and he was pinned.   
  
He groaned as he rolled slowly out of the ring to fall onto the thin mat at the side, shook his head to clear it of the cobwebs, and then began the slow walk to the back, though he kept veering to the right for some reason he couldn't place. Vision swimming, he made it in one piece to the locker room, where he promptly collapsed onto a bench and let his head sink down into his hands.   
  
"Hey," Erin announced his presence. "Where were you at out there?"   
  
Jay groaned and refused to answer.   
  
"C'mon, man, it's not like you to get so distracted. What's up? You okay?"   
  
"Fine," Jay snapped, massaging his temples in hopes of warding off the headache he could already feel forming. "Nothing's 'up'. I was just daydreaming, I guess."   
  
Erin raised a skeptical eyebrow and began unlacing his boots. "Uh huh. Try another one."   
  
"Look, I've just got a lot on my mind right now, okay? I just let it get to me. I'm sorry and I promise it won't happen again. Satisfied now?"   
  
"Not really," Erin admitted with a grin, "but I'll say yes just to make you happy."   
  
Jay groaned and got to his feet, grabbing onto an open locker to keep from toppling backwards when his vision suddenly blurred and went dim. Okay, so maybe taking very nearly the full brunt of a chair directly to the face hadn't been his smartest move ever. He could deal with the teasing he would no doubt suffer at the hands of his friends and coworkers. What worried him more was the source of his intense stress.   
  
It had been almost a week since he'd walked out of the hospital and away from Adam's warped sense of loyalty. So far he had neither heard nor seen even the slightest hint that Adam was still alive at all. Being the proud person he was, Jay couldn't quite bring himself to go crawling back and begging for forgiveness and understanding -- especially when he knew he was right. Even if that meant lonely nights spent holding the telephone, kept company only by Ash and the cable he stole from a neighbor. Every time he found himself feeling guilty over not calling Adam, he comforted himself with the knowledge that he was right and Adam was wrong.   
  
Naturally, that never helped matters any.   
  
Completely unbeknownst to him, Adam sat in his room on the other side of town, ready to solve the problems for both of them. Having nothing better to do, he was seated at the end of his bed with a book he wasn't really reading open in his lap. All he'd been able to gather was it had wizards and dragons and knights as focus points, but none of it really mattered when his thoughts kept going back to Jay. At some point that evening he'd finally decided to swallow his pride and call Jay to explain himself, but so far he'd kept getting the answering machine.   
  
Nevertheless, he pressed the redial button again and waited. As he expected, a tiny click sounded after the fourth ring, followed by the same recording he'd heard six times already.   
  
"Hi, this is Jason. Either I'm not home or I am and I'm ignoring you. If --"   
  
Not waiting for the message to finish, Adam pressed the talk button and tossed the phone back onto the bed with a frustrated sigh. Jay obviously wasn't going to make this any easier. He considered going back to his book and waiting for Jay to break down and call him, but quickly brushed the thought away. Besides the fact Jay was infinitely more stubborn, he was also right in being mad.   
  
Adam closed the book, then let his gaze come to fall on his left arm. The heavy bandages had finally been removed yesterday, only to give way to series of stitches winding from the base of his wrist to just below his elbow. The doctor had made no attempt to sugar-coat the knowledge that a long scar would be left as a gruesome reminder of Adam's desperation to get away from his father.   
  
Shivering at the thought, Adam picked up the phone and dialed.   
  
"Hi, this is Jason. Either I'm not home or I am and I'm ignoring you. If this is Erin, I know there's a show. If this is Karen, burn my phone number. If it's Mom, I'm not moving home yet. If it's anyone else and you're still here, leave a message and a number at the beep. If you're not one of those people I'm ignoring, I'll get back to you when I can."   
  
Adam cleared his throat, waited for the tone, and then started. "Uh. . .hi, Jay, it's me. Look, I'm sorry about what went on at the hospital. I never meant to upset you, but I have my reasons. I just don't wanna try to explain them to a machine. Come on, Jay, pick up if you're there. Please?" Adam paused, holding his breath hopefully. "Okay. I guess you're not going to. Don't be mad, alright?" The door opened suddenly, making Adam's eyes widen and voice quicken. "Shit. I gotta go. Just, uh, gimme a call when you --"   
  
The tape cut him off, making him turn the phone off and fondle the antenna nervously.   
  
David closed the door behind him. "Who was that?"   
  
"Someone, not that it's any of your business."   
  
"Let me guess -- your fag boyfriend?"   
  
Adam scowled. "Get out of my room."   
  
Downstairs in the kitchen, Sophie dropped a plate and let it shatter when the pained screams began.   
  
"Mein Gott," she muttered in the mother language she hadn't really used since she was a child in Munich. Tears started to blur her vision as the screams grew louder and more helpless. "Er ist ein Ungeheuers," she continued, picking the broken pieces of porcelain off the tiled floor and throwing them into the trash can. "Ich sollte töte ihn selbst!"   
  
"Sophie, you know I can't understand a word you're saying when you do that," Mike pointed out from his seat at the table. Sophie, in response, slammed her hands down on the counter and bowed her head.   
  
"You don't even have to understand what I'm saying," she replied, teeth clenched tightly together. She jumped when another scream sounded, then pulled the phone off its wall mount.   
  
"What're you doing?"   
  
"Leave me alone, Mike. I watched that . . . that monster destroy Kim, now I'll be damned if I just keep sitting by and watch him do the same to Adam."   
  
Mike lifted his eyebrows. "Put the phone down, Sophie."   
  
"No."   
  
"If you do anything rash, you know he'll get back at us. Please, Sophie, I've got a family. I don't want to put them in jeopardy."   
  
Sophie's brow narrowed in determination, even despite the tears welling in her eyes. "Maybe you do, but Adam's the only family that I have. I've watched that poor boy suffer for years. I-I can't take it anymore." She paused to swipe the back of her hand across her eyes. "Listen, Mike. This isn't one of their typical fights. David's going to kill him this time if we don't do something."   
  
Mike ran an indecisive hand across his balding head, then dropped it to rest against his mouth. "I hope you know what you're doing."   
  
"I don't, but it's the only thing I know to do."   
  
An unsettling silence filled the house as soon as the words left her mouth, broken only by the sound of footsteps falling heavily overhead, gradually coming closer and thudding along the staircase. Sophie looked cautiously out the door leading from the kitchen to the main room, eyes widening when she saw David walking past without so much as a glance at her, shirt speckled and smeared with thin traces of blood. When she turned, she noticed an expression of fear and anger on Mike's face that was indentical to her own; she barely gave the front door time to close before she darted upstairs and into Adam's bedroom.   
  
What she found there threatened to break her heart.   
  
Adam was stretched across his bed, face buried in a pillow, fresh wounds opened in his back. She couldn't quite decide if his trembling shoulders meant he was crying or just shaking, but she didn't really want to know either way.   
  
"Oh, baby," she whispered, tears finally spilling over and rolling unchecked down her cheeks. She walked slowly to the bed and lowered herself onto the edge of it, pulling the long hair out of Adam's face so that she could see him. Though not crying, he certainly didn't seem too far from it, judging from the slightly glazed look in his eyes; that just made Sophie's own tears fall harder. "Adam, honey, I'm so sorry..."   
  
"Why does he hate me?" he asked meekly in a voice that cracked halfway through the question. "And why don't I fight back?"   
  
Sophie shook her head, having no real answer to offer. "I don't know, hon. You definitely have every reason to." She frowned, tucking a stray piece of hair behind his ear to keep it from falling back down into his face. "God knows no one would blame you for killing the bastard."   
  
Adam flinched moments before closing his eyes. "He's still my father."   
  
"By blood, and that's where the connection ends. Hold on a minute, sweetheart. I'll be right back."   
  
She rose to her feet and left the room without another word, leaving Adam there to study the dotted pattern on his pillowcase and try to block out the searing pain in his back. It was such a common way to spend his nights, pretending the cuts weren't there and that he would wake up feeling better, that they didn't even seem to hurt as much now as he knew they should have. As with every other time, it was trying to deal with *why* they had been put there that bothered him more.   
  
He jumped involuntarily when he felt a cold, wet rag pressing against his skin, then relaxed when he heard Sophie whispering soft, comforting words in German. He tried to keep himself occupied by seeing if he could actually understand what she was saying, then decided to just let her play mother hen and take advantage of it.   
  
"I'm going to get you out of here, Adam," she promised once she switched back to English, though a hint of an accent still lingered in her words. She unwrapped a large bandage and began the delicate task of applying it without causing more damage than she had to. "God willing, I will."   
  
"Then you'll have to kill me."   
  
"Don't talk like that," she snapped angrily, wincing as the bandage caught on an exposed wound and made Adam yelp. "Sorry."   
  
"S'okay."   
  
"Mike's on the phone with Jason now," she began again, "and I think we've found your ticket out." Adam raised a skeptical eyebrow, to which Sophie gave a small, weak smile. "He said he's starting a cross-country tour with his wrestling . . . thing, whatever you call it in a couple days. It's my intentions to see you go with him."   
  
Adam groaned in frustration and closed his eyes again. "It won't matter anyway. He'll find me."   
  
"He's a powerful man, honey, but he's not God. He won't be able to find you if you're clear across the country." She shrugged, dropping the rag onto the corner of the bed and resting her hand on the portion of the small of Adam's back that had somehow gone untouched. "Besides. I have plans to keep him busy."   
  
"Why are you doing this?"   
  
Sophie thought the innocent question over for a long moment, then sighed quietly. "Because I promised your mother I'd watch out for you and make sure you got away from David, from this life. And so far, I've done a pretty miserable job at it. I can't . . . I can't just let him break you down the same way he did to her, baby, I can't." She tugged his shirt back down, careful to keep it from scraping against the bandages. "I don't know if you're aware of it or not, but your mother started a savings fund for you when you were still a baby. Mike and I have been making deposits in it every month since . . . she passed away, and we started saving a little a couple years ago so that we could get you something nice for your eighteenth birthday. Something that wasn't just meant to show off how rich your family is," she amended with more than a little bitterness in her voice. "Between the savings fund and the money we've saved, that should be more than enough to keep you and Jay until you get on your feet."   
  
"He'll kill you for this," Adam pointed out softly, opening his eyes again to find Sophie's deep brown ones focused on his. She gave a warm, almost motherly smile in return and tousled his hair affectionately.   
  
"No, hon, he won't. Trust me. I'll take care of myself."   
  
Footsteps heralded Mike's arrival seconds before he poked his head into the room. He gave a nod, and Sophie sighed thankfully in response.   
  
"What?" Adam asked curiously, craning his neck to see what was going on behind his back and crying out at the way the wounds twisted against his bandages. Sophie made a scolding sound and gently but forcefully pushed him back down.   
  
"Nothing, dear. Just stay still before you hurt yourself."   
  
"Don't patronize me."   
  
"I'll patronize you if I damn well feel like it, now stay there and don't move," Sophie ordered, hands on hips. Adam grumbled something unintelligible but undoubtedly rude under his breath, but he didn't dare challenge an overprotective nanny when she was in full gear. Instead, he contented himself with watching her and Mike both hustle around his room, packing various things away in bags, suitcases, his backpack, whatever they could find that could be packed and carried. He watched the notebook he jotted down lyrics in go into his bookbag; two pairs of jeans were crammed into an already full suitcase before it was zipped; the leather-bound carrier he always kept his favorite CDs in was zipped and placed by the door, along with the remaining bags that were packed as full as they could be.   
  
The too-familiar sound of a car door slamming outside jarred him, making him jump up suddenly before Sophie could stop him. He cursed as a result when a bandage scratched against a wound and pulled the skin.   
  
"I told you to stay still," Sophie chided, pushing him back down onto the bed. "Calm down, honey. It's just Jason."   
  
Adam's face paled at the remark. "What's he doing here? Sophie, no! I don't want him seeing me like this! Like . . . like some kind of fucking pussy who can't even take care of himself."   
  
"I'm sorry, but I'm putting your well being above your ego."   
  
She fell quiet, then the bustling in the room stopped; Adam turned to see it was only because both she and Mike had left. He groaned when he heard voices downstairs and then someone taking to the stairs and making a beeline for his bedroom. Seeing Jay standing there just inside the open door, face marred with evidence of his pity and something unable to be indentified was too much. Adam rolled over onto his side and refused to turn around.   
  
"Hey," Jay started quietly, stepping further into the room and closing the door gently behind him. "Heard a rumor you were breaking out and they needed someone to drive the getaway vehicle."   
  
"Go 'way."   
  
"Mmm, no. Sorry." He walked around to the other side of the bed so that Adam was forced to look at him. "Got your message. You said you didn't wanna give your reasons to a machine, so here I am."   
  
"That's not why you're here, you liar."   
  
Jay gave his patented crooked grin while inviting himself onto the bed, stretching out and holding himself up on his elbow to look at Adam. "Alright, so I've got other reasons, too. You can't blame me for trying, though."   
  
"Leave."   
  
The demand was so sudden and unexpected it made Jay's grin slip from his face. "Uh . . ."   
  
"Leave," Adam repeated, voice hitching a bit. He looked up to meet Jay's eyes, his own pleading with an untold fear. "Jay, please. I...I never meant to drag you into any of this. It was just a crush. I never meant . . ."   
  
"...Yeah?"   
  
Adam lowered his eyes to the mattress, letting his gaze flicker across the sheets. "Nothing."   
  
Jay reached out with his index finger and tilted Adam's chin up so that they were looking at one another again. "Never meant to what, Adam?"   
  
"T-to fall in love with you. I never meant for that to happen. And I never meant to pull you into my so-called fucked up mockery of a life."   
  
"But you did, and it's too late to pull back now," Jay pointed out. "Cheesy as it sounds, we're in this together now and I'm not just gonna let you sit around and wait for him to finish you off."   
  
"So you want him to finish us off at the same time?"   
  
Jay shrugged. "Whatever. I learned how to do a really cool move off the top rope a few days ago. I can handle him." He paused and gave his crooked grin again. "Seriously, though, someone once told me that nothing's worth loving if you aren't willing to make sacrifices for it. Real smart guy who said that, so I'll take his word for it. Cute, too. Too bad I can't remember who it was. Maybe it was Buddha."   
  
Adam rolled his eyes but didn't fight when Jay laughed softly and pulled him into his arms, going to great lengths to keep from brushing against the still-sore wounds in his back. Now with his head on Jay's shoulder, lulled almost to the point of unconsciousness by the steady rise and fall of the other boy's chest, he knew he was fighting a losing battle.   
  
Then again, he'd never been one to easily admit defeat.   
  
"He'll find us. You know that."   
  
"Not if we don't let him."   
  
"And what if I have to spend the rest of my life running?"   
  
Jay reached down, threading his fingers lightly through Adam's thick hair and around to trace the outline of his jaw. "Then I'll run with you. We'll be like Thelma and Louise. Cheech and Chong. Sonny and Cher."   
  
"Beavis and Butthead."   
  
"See? You're already getting the idea." Jay chuckled to himself at some private joke. "Huh huh. Hey, Beavis? Whaddya think would happen if I lit this thing?" When Adam didn't answer, Jay prodded him lightly with a finger to his temple. "Hey, if we're gonna do this, you're gonna have to do your part. This is where you go, 'heh heh, fire, fire! Do it! Heh.' Or did you ever see that episode?"   
  
"You're a moron."   
  
"But that's why you love me, right?" Adam refused to answer, leaving Jay to shrug carelessly. "We're starting a tour Friday. Our first big one, really. Gonna be really neat, since I've never been out of Ontario. Well, I was in Ottowa once to see my grandma, but that doesn't count," Jay rambled, waving it away with his hand. "We're going all the way out to the northwest territories. And hey, maybe some of that French you've been trying to learn'll come in handy, 'cause I think we're doing a couple shows in Quebec, too. Only thing I know how to say in French is . . . hell, I don't even know what it means. I think it's got something to do with Germans taking over Paris and I'm pretty sure there's a cheese-eating frog reference in there somewhere."   
  
"Okay, so you're a prejudiced moron."   
  
"All the more reason to love me. But anyway, once we get that tour wrapped up, we're gonna come back to Toronto for a couple weeks, then we're going into the states for a little while. It'll be nice to see what WWF TV looks like when it hasn't been edited all to hell."   
  
"Is there a reason you're telling me all this?"   
  
"You really wanna know?" Adam nodded wordlessly; Jay smirked. "Because your housekeepers are putting your stuff in the cab and wanted me to keep you distracted."   
  
"You evil little shit."   
  
Jay grinned innocently and leaned forward to plant a quick kiss on the tip of Adam's nose. "Your life would be boring without me."   
  
"Adam?" An almost timid voice sounded from outside the door seconds before it came open. Sophie walked in carrying a small gray box with a key taped to the top of it. "The cab's waiting for you two."   
  
After ten minutes of listening to Sophie's explicit directions to call whenever he needed anything and making frequent promises to keep in touch even just to say hi, Adam and Jay both found themselves sitting in the backseat of the taxi, Jay arguing with the driver about the quickest way to get back to his apartment. Adam decided not to comment that the driver probably knew his way around Toronto much better and opted instead to cast one last, lingering glance to the house quickly pulling out of his line of vision. It had almost completely disappeared when a hand on his shoulder startled him back to awareness. When he turned back around, he saw Jay watching him worriedly.   
  
"You okay?"   
  
To both his and Jay's surprise, Adam nodded, grinned, and slid across the seat a little closer so that he could slip his hand into Jay's. "Yeah. Never better."   
  
The car pulled out onto the main road and Adam never looked back. 


	11. Epilogue

In the grand scheme of things, irony always played the biggest part. Or, at least, that's what Sophie told herself as she pretended to dab at her eyes from the mournful funeral music that played from cold, uncaring speakers. She hid a satisfied smirk behind the veil draped from her hat as she passed the open casket and peered inside, a small part of her twinged with guilt but overwhelmed by the rest of her that was jumping around gleefully.   
  
"Goodbye, David," she whispered, running her fingertips along the casket. Cherry oak. Very fine craftmanship, she had to admit, much better than she thought he deserved. Of course, he would have to make certain he was even buried in style, and the thought was enough to turn Sophie's stomach. She kept walking until she was out of the elaborate cathedral and in the parking lot, digging a pack of cigarettes out of her purse as she went. It was a habit she was trying to kick; some habits, obviously, were easier to lose than others.   
  
Taking a slow drag from the cigarette once it was lit, she took the opportunity to glance casually around the parking lot. It was full to the point cars were parked alongside the road and all around the block. Sadly enough, all of them belonged to coworkers and business associates -- even Adam had refused to attend, and she took a small amount of pleasure in that. The last laugh, it would seem, would be Adam's.   
  
True to her word to make certain David didn't find his son, she'd prepared a dinner especially for him and had it waiting when he came home, smelling of booze and some cheap perfume that made her gag. She'd conveniently forgotten to tell him she had loaded his food with every spice she could think of that he hated and was allergic to. It had been a small but necessary blight on her conscience when he choked on the spiced meat and ran through a gamut of colors when his throat swelled before he finally stopped breathing.   
  
Quite sad, really, she thought, that one of Toronto's wealthiest men met his end by a piece of chicken. And yet she couldn't quite bring herself to feel guilty for having been directly responsible for it. With no one caring enough to challenge for an autopsy and the police being convinced by her high school play acting skills utilized with tears and forced hysterics, the body was prepared for burial almost before it had grown cold.   
  
In the end, Sophie was rather proud of herself.   
  
She walked to the Lexus and crushed her cigarette beneath her black high heel, then opened the door to get into the passenger's side. Mike never even looked up from the paper unfolded over the steering wheel.   
  
"Well?"   
  
"Dead as a doornail. Shame, too," she went on, pulling her gloves off and throwing the hat into the backseat. "Beautiful service."   
  
"That's why you're cutting out early, I guess."   
  
"There's a new episode of Frasier on tonight."   
  
Mike raised his eyebrows. "Sophie, it's ten a.m."   
  
"Well, I have other things to get done before it comes on."   
  
"You're not even a little sorry about this, are you?"   
  
Sophie gave a light snort and kicked her shoes off, wiggling her toes once they were free of the cramped stilletos. "Oh, I'll regret it some day, I'm sure. Probably when I'm being denied entrance into Heaven, granted, but some day."   
  
Mike shrugged, folded the paper up, and started the car. "Just asking, because if you hadn't done it, I sure as hell was thinking about it. Only thing is, I was thinking of something a little less subtle."   
  
"Like an ax to the head?"   
  
"Something like that, yeah."   
  
******  
  
Thud. Bang. Crash. "Shit!"   
  
That had been pretty much how the entire morning had gone.   
  
Adam smiled to himself, scratching behind Ash's ears and receiving a gratified purr for his trouble. He stood by the one window in the tiny apartment that could be reached without a death-defying show of bravery, watching with great interest the people passing on the sidewalks below and the cars going down the alley. They all seemed so ... normal. No uptight corporate moguls in suits and ties, no assistants, no chirping cellphones, just normal people going to the store, normal teenagers skipping school.   
  
And then there was Jay.  
  
"Jay, you might wanna sit down for a minute and --"   
  
"Don't have time. The guys are gonna be here to pick us up in twenty minutes, and they'll leave if we're not ready. You know, *you* might wanna help a little..."   
  
"No, not really."   
  
Jay mumbled and started back towards his bedroom, swearing loudly when he tripped over an open suitcase. "Get your fucking stuff out of the floor and help me pack, would you?"   
  
"Actually, that's your stuff. Mine's already packed. That's what you get for not listening to me when I tried to get you to pack up last night."   
  
"Yeah, sure, throw it back at me that you just *happened* to mention that when I was kind of in a compromising position."   
  
"Hey, at least I mentioned it."   
  
Jay flipped him off and disappeared into the bedroom.   
  
Adam laughed again and carefully pried a lock of his hair out of Ash's paws when the kitten took offense to being ignored. "I think you've got anger management issues."   
  
"I think you're gonna get a foot up your ass if you don't help me!" Jay called from the bedroom, giving a small, startled yelp when he felt a pair of arms wrap around his waist. "That's, uh, not what I meant, dude."   
  
"Je t'aime," Adam murmured against Jay's ear, making the other boy roll his eyes.   
  
"Should I see if I can find a tight black and white striped shirt and a black beret for you? You're not gonna start, like, bringing me flowers or anything now are you? 'Cause if you do...well, sorry, but you'll have to find somewhere else to stay. My little scrap of manly dignity can only take so much."   
  
Adam pushed Jay into the side of the doorframe and caught his mouth in a short, sweet kiss that made Jay sigh quietly once it ended.   
  
"Punk."   
  
A car horn outside made him groan and let the back of his head fall against the wooden frame. Adam grinned and picked Ash up off the floor.   
  
"Well, Ash and I are ready to go. Wake me up whenever you get in the van."   
  
"Have I told you lately how very much I despise you?"   
  
"I love you." Adam kissed Jay and then picked his bags off the floor on his way to the door.   
  
"No, no, I *loathe* you! I have nothing but blind hatred for you!" Jay called just as the door pulled shut. He sighed quietly and finished packing the last of his bags, took another look around the apartment, and turned off his bedroom light on his way out. "Only thing is," he started, talking to himself while locking the door, "I love you more than words can say."   
  
And, he admitted to himself, there were worse ways to spend the next several weeks than in close quarters with the one person on Earth who meant the most to him.   
  
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Author's Notes: Hey, you crazy cats! Wow. That's really all I can say. I'm glad it's finally over, but in a way it's a bittersweet happiness, y'know? The response has been overwhelming, though, and I can't thank you guys enough for all the feedback! *sniff* Okay, I'm gonna stop before I go all Sally Field on you. Just a few little notes before I leave, if you're curious: chapter ten, when Sophie's going off in German? My German sucks, quite frankly, but I'm pretty sure it translates, in order, into "My God/He is a monster./I should kill him myself/" - pleasant, ne? And in this part, if you couldn't tell, "Je t'aime" means I love you. Aww. How cute. And no, I don't know how to call anyone a cheese-eating frog in French, though I really wish I did...  
  
Anyway, thanks guys! I lurve ya. Mwah! :) 


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